


dig a hole, fill it up

by inlovewithnight



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: (medical and not), 2014-2015 NHL Season, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Marijuana, Multi, Poly V, Polyamory, Rape Recovery, on-screen assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4865132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Going up to the NHL was supposed to be a new start. Everything would be different there.</p>
<p>It wasn't quite that simple, but Aaron had help to figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dig a hole, fill it up

Aaron knew going into Barrie that the whole exceptional status thing wasn’t going to make him popular with the team. Everybody back home had warned him about it, for one thing, but he wasn’t stupid; he knew that nobody liked a kid to come in and act like they were better than everybody who was already there. He was going to be careful, be nice to everybody, play his shifts as he got them, and never offer anybody any advice unless he was asked. That was the self-preservation plan.

He didn’t factor in that he wouldn’t even have to _do_ anything for them to come after him. Actually, not doing anything seemed to piss them off more than any of the stuff he’d sworn not to do. Minding his own business, lacing up his skates, waiting for someone else to clear out of the shower so he could use the space they were standing in; some of the guys took those as serious offenses.

They were all there to play hockey. There was no way to tell one bruise from the others, or say for sure that one came from a hit on the ice and another came from a hit in the locker room. No point in trying. So he kept his mouth shut, learned not to turn his back to the room, and tried to wait it out.

And after any hit that was hard enough to make him see stars, or any time they crowded him into a corner and tried to push him down on his knees, any time they grabbed him hard enough that he actually got scared—

_Hey, remember, if you go crying to anybody they’ll send you home, and that’s it for you and hockey. Got it?_

He got it. He got it fine.

He could wait it out.

Part of it was his own fault, he knew; he was the size of an adult, he was built like a grown man, he could take whatever they dished out to him. They knew it, too, or they found out fast, and it frustrated the hell out of them. They figured they could intimidate the new kid, beat him down a little, get the idea that he was special out of his head. _Exceptional_.

But he actually was exceptional. Not on purpose, but it was still there. Just a fact.

And god, it pissed some of them the hell off.

**

One day he was tired and his shoulder was sore; he’d taken a rough hit at practice and kept going instead of taking a breather, because everybody was just _waiting_ for him to look weak so they could tear into him more. Even the coaches, he was pretty sure. They all watched him so closely and he couldn’t really remember why anyone would do that if they weren’t waiting to see blood.

He swung his arm slowly as he walked into the locker room, testing the range of motion, trying to find just where it caught. He would ice it now and stretch it later and hopefully be back at ninety percent tomorrow. If not, he would lie about it. That was the routine.

A hand caught him by the wrist and pulls him around to face them, a blurred cluster of faces. “Hey, bitch.”

One of the other guys, one of the ones who wasn’t so bad, who didn’t give him shit and shared their stick tape if he ran out and sat next to him at meetings and film review and stuff, looked up and said in a tired voice, “Just leave him the fuck alone, eh? Aren’t you bored yet?”

“Mind your own business,” said one of the ones pushing Aaron toward the showers, and Aaron knew without looking that the other guy would. He couldn’t blame him, really. He would’ve done the same. If you caused trouble, the coaches would find out, and you might get benched or even sent home. None of them could risk that. The game was what mattered, and the game meant keeping the team unified, and keeping the team unified meant no in-fighting.

And that meant minding your own business.

They pushed him to the floor in the showers, and he went down hard, pain jolting up his thighs from his knees when they hit the tile. He needed to be careful with his knees, fucking them up was bad news, and positioned like this with them standing around him left them vulnerable. He held still, his heart racing in his chest like he was back out there doing drills, his breath ragged.

Someone turned on the jets on the far side, letting the water pound against the wall. The sound filled up the space, killing the echoes and amplifying the pounding of his heart in his ears.

“You need to learn where you belong,” one of them said. Aaron knew all of them, of course; they were his teammates, they’d been living almost on top of each other for months, but he let all the names blur right out of his head right then. He didn’t need to remember that. He didn’t need to be able to tell them apart. It didn’t matter.

Two of them stepped behind him and held his arms, putting too much pressure on his sore shoulder. He had to twist a little, dropping it to ease the pressure, and one of them kicked him in the ass for his trouble.

“C’mon,” Aaron said unsteadily. “C’mon, guys, let’s not.”

“You’re not fucking special,” he said, the one in charge; Aaron had blurred his name right out and wasn’t going to go looking for it. Better not to think about it. “Mister Exceptional. Exceptional little bitch.”

The ones behind him tightened their grips on Aaron’s arms and he stopped resisting, letting himself go limp despite the instincts screaming at him to fight. Fighting wouldn’t do any good.

“Okay,” Aaron said, tilting his head back to look at him. “Okay, do what you want.”

His hand curled into a fist and he lashed out once, just once, but the other guys let go and Aaron fell on the wet floor. He tried to catch himself, fingers scrambling at the tile, but it didn’t help, and after a moment he stopped trying at all, because hands were on his hips, moving him, pushing and pulling, and then everything blurred out for a while.

**

The draft was terrifying and amazing, and a way to draw a line right through part of his life. Barrie was over now; the fear of the first year and the careful, desperately-constructed normalcy of the two that followed, all of it got wiped out by moving up to the big show. He could write out his own history and start over. 

He couldn’t kill the nerves totally, of course. The expectations would be higher, the work would be harder, the consequences would be worse if he screwed up. Those were all givens. He didn’t know what the locker room would be like. What the guys would be like. What the rules were for how teammates move around each other and related to each other. When it was okay to flinch.

If it was acceptable to be exceptional.

He pressed all of that back, locked it away in the back of his head, and swore over and over again, both to himself and in front any camera they sent after him, that everything was completely and absolutely fine.

They billeted him with the captain for training camp, which sent him into a panic he couldn’t explain to anybody, ever. The captain and his _wife_ , in their house, their territory. He was walking in without anything but a vague reassurance from the front office that Willie and Megan Mitchell were “great.”

His billet house in Barrie was safe, it was where he could go to pull himself together and catch his breath. If living with the captain in Florida wasn’t safe, if there was nowhere he could go, he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do.

He was good at brushing panic off as just a little bit of nerves, or being excited, even. He could make everybody buy it. But his hands shook all the time, whenever he thought about it. 

Willie and Megan were as awkward as he was, the first day he moved in. They all stared at each other a lot, and cut off mid-sentence. The conversation ended up being more about the dog than anything else, and Aaron claimed he was tired and needed to go to bed at, like, nine o’clock. And they acted like they believed him.

Willie stopped him just before he went down the hall. “If you need anything, anything at all,” he said, careful and serious like an older brother, “just let me know. I’ve got your back.”

Aaron nodded and smiled a little and agreed, because what else was he going to do? Willie did remind him more of the guys in Barrie who would loan him tape and never put a hand on him than the guys who ran things. Still, just because Willie wouldn’t hurt him didn’t mean he would stop anyone else.

He lay in the bed in the guest room, which was now _his_ room until either spring or he got busted back down to the A, and waited for his heart to slow down. It took a while, and it took even longer before he could actually fall asleep. There was just… there was a lot to take in, and a lot to be nervous about, at first. So many people. So many expectations. So many chances to fuck it up, either by not being good enough or being _too_ good and making people angry at him. It was a hard line to walk. Just thinking about it made him tired.

**

Days went by, training camp passed, and nothing happened. His teammates were… cool. They were nice to him. It was like how hockey had been before the first year in Barrie, like the later years in Barrie after those guys moved on, like how hockey was _supposed_ to be. A team. A brotherhood. He caught himself starting to trust them without thinking about it.

The story about him interrupting Willie in the shower to tell him that he got to stay with the team was a good one. It made for good press, it was funny and cute, it was real. Aaron didn’t mind it being out there. It was better than the flip side, the parts that didn’t carry by in a rush of adrenaline, like how it took two weeks of living there before he didn’t lock the bathroom door before he showered, and a full month before he turned all the lights off when he was alone. It got better, it did. Things got better. He just had to keep everything balanced.

He couldn’t flinch on the ice, no matter what. On the ice, he had to be perfect. He had to go into the hits, had to take every bit of contact the same as he ever did. His body belonged to the team, and the team intended to use it.

Thinking about it like that helped, actually. It wasn’t _his_ body. It was the team’s, and they needed it. The body that _they_ owned was working just fine. It could do its job.

The body that _he_ owned, off the ice, was another problem, but there wasn’t time to think about that.

For a while that worked. A couple of weeks, a decent start to the season. He had a lot of learning to do, but everyone was giving him room to do it, only encouragement, no sharp words.

But around the time he started feeling like he could sleep at the house without being vigilant, other things started to slip. His mind seemed to get foggy, sometimes. He made stupid mistakes. He just couldn’t seem to hit perfect anymore. He felt eyes on him more often, evaluating, judging, and it was like a shadow fell across the room.

He took extra ice time after a particularly rough practice and skated slow, steady laps, for consistency rather than time.

“Don’t wear yourself out,” one of the coaches called when they saw him. “Dammit, Ekblad, that’s not on your training plan.”

Right, right, they owned that, too.

His brain was screaming-loud, his lungs hurt, his pulse was fluttering in his temple in a way that made him want to vomit.

“Thought I felt a little tight,” he said finally. “Wanted to stretch it out.”

The coaches looked at him for a long minute. They had sharp eyes, clipboards in their hands, and they were sizing him up like they wanted to dissect him. They were going to break him down and fix him.

They would be fixing all the wrong things, though.

“I’ll go see the trainer,” he said, before they had to say anything.

**

He had to keep it off the ice. He knew that. It was the only rule that mattered. But the next game, he was still so fucking tired. His legs felt like lead, and it was hard to keep them under himself.

The coaches weren’t happy. He muttered excuses, avoided eye contact, tried to make himself small until they looked away from him. He hadn’t been anything resembling small since he was fourteen, and wasn’t any good at faking it.

Eventually they left him alone. Until after the next game, where he overcorrected for the exhaustion and turned frenetic. He overshot, mistimed his hits, took penalties.

Willie hauled him into a corner of the locker room before the coaches could get to him, this time.

“What’s going on, kiddo?” he asked, his voice low and intense, his eyes searching Aaron’s face too closely. Aaron flinched back, trying to get his shoulders against the wall. He was off the ice and stuck with his body again, and it didn’t want to be here, this close.

“Nothing,” Aaron said. “I’m just off.”

“You’re way off. You’re not even in the same time zone.”

“I know. I know.” He bit down hard, catching his self-control between his teeth. “I’ll fix it.”

Willie stared at him another minute, then stepped back, giving Aaron enough room to breathe. “I’ll keep them off your back. For tonight.”

“Thanks.” Aaron rubbed his face and tried not to scream into his hands. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want _any_ of this, the distractions, the exhaustion, the Red Bull and frantic racing thoughts. He just wanted to play hockey. That’s all he _ever_ wanted.

He didn’t know why it was bothering him now. There was no reason for it to be coming back. It had been a long time.

**

He Skyped with Brendan when he got home, and they didn’t talk about it, like usual. They talked about their practices and their games, about what they were working on at practice, what drills they were doing. They talked about their teammates, and girls, and the cool new stuff they were buying. Aaron was buying more than Brendan, but it was cool, B never got jealous. He was just happy for Aaron. He was always happy for Aaron.

They talked about Brendan coming down for a visit, and Aaron tried to be cool about it, tried not to get too intense and eager. He really, really wanted to see Brendan, to have him in the same space. He was pretty sure he could re-balance himself with Brendan around. They went through all of it together, and they came out of it together. He could remind himself it was all over and done with, all clear, with Brendan around.

But he knew, they both knew, that it would never actually happen. It would be too weird, for Brendan to be here while Aaron was playing in the big show. It would create a space between them that neither of them knew how to deal with. It was fun to talk about, but… it was just a story. Not real.

“You’re doing good, Eks,” Brendan said, and Aaron smiled a little. “I’m proud of you.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Brendan’s eyes darted away from the camera for a moment, then back to it. “Hang in there, okay? Don’t let it get to you.”

“Nothing’s getting to me.” Aaron flashed his practiced smile. He knew Brendan could tell the difference, but he also knew that right now he would pretend he couldn’t. He knew that Aaron needed pretending right now or he was going to wobble, and if he wobbled he would crack, and if he cracked, everything would be over.

“Stay good,” Brendan said. He logged off, and Aaron was alone. He breathed in and out slowly, closing out of Skype and shutting down his computer, reminding himself that everything was different now.

A knock came at the door and he jerked backward, so startled he almost fell out of his chair. “What?”

“Just me, rookie.” Willie opened the door a crack and looked in at him. “I was out on the deck and Meg went to bed. Wondered if you were still up and might want to have a beer with me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Aaron sat up straighter and closed his laptop. “I was just talking to some friends back home.”

“Oh, didn’t meant to interrupt.”

“You’re not. Definitely not. He had to go, anyway.” He rubed his hands on his thighs and stood up. “I’ll meet you out there in just a sec. Gotta hit the head first.”

“Yeah, yeah. No rush.” Willie closed the door behind him, and Aaron clenched his hands into fists, reminding himself again to _breathe_ before going into the bathroom. Everything was fine. Nobody here wanted to hurt him. That was all in the past, and he just had to push it back harder. Keep fighting until it stayed down.

Eventually it _had_ to go away.

 

**

When Aaron got out to the porch Willie was waiting, sitting on the deeply padded swing with his feet up on the railing. “Sit down, kid,” he said, saluting Aaron with a beer. “Help yourself to the cooler there.”

Aaron pulled out a bottle and leaned against the railing. “Nice night, eh?”

“It is.” Willie took a drink, then swirled the liquid slowly in the bottle. “You doing okay?”

“I’m fine.” Aaron glanced at him and shrugged. “I told you earlier, I’m just a little off. I’ll work it out, I promise.”

Willie nodded, watching the bottle in his hand. “Okay. You know if you are having a hard time with anything, you can talk to me. It’s part of the whole mentor thing. And the captain thing. It’s what I’m here for.”

Aaron smiled slightly and took another drink. “I know. It’s good knowing you’re around.”

“Contrary to what Megan might tell you, I’m a very good listener.”

“She hasn’t told me anything either way.”

Willie laughed, and they were quiet for a moment, drinking their beers in silence in the heavy humidity of the Florida night.

“If nothing’s wrong, then nothing’s wrong,” Willie said finally, “and if you just don’t want to talk about it, then you don’t have to, but you just seem really fucking sad the last few days. That’s what got my attention more than being off your game did. I hate seeing you so sad, kid.”

Aaron scraped at the label on his bottle. “Not sad, exactly.”

“You homesick, maybe? Miss your folks?”

He had to smile at that. “I haven’t lived at home since I was fifteen, remember? Got over being homesick a while ago.”

“It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been gone, you can still get homesick. I miss the Isle all the time.” Willie gestured out at the yard. “It’s all the wrong shades of green down here. The water’s wrong. I love it, but it’s not home, no way.”

Aaron considered it for a moment, then took another drink. “I guess you’re right about that. But I’m not homesick, either.”

“Just a lot on your mind?” Willie asked.

“Yeah.” He laughed a little and killed his beer, setting the bottle on the railing and running his hands through his hair. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. There’s a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I could put a word in on? I’m happy to. You don’t have to do stuff alone, you know.”

“I know. I know.” Aaron tried to smile at him, but he could tell it was coming out wrong. “It’s nothing you can help with. I’m sorry. I know you would if you could, but it’s really not… anything like that.”

Willie watched him for a moment. “Nothing with the team, then.”

“No. The team’s great. I’m learning so much. It’s… it’s everything I could ever have wanted. Everyone’s just, like, helping me grow. Nobody’s trying to hold me down. It’s good.” His eyes are prickling, heat threatening behind them in a way he can’t allow. He rubs the back of his wrist over them absently and picks at the paint on the railing. “Nothing wrong with the team at all.”

Willie reached into the cooler and got another beer, holding it out to Aaron. “Here. Take the edge off.”

“Thanks.” Aaron cleared his throat roughly and reached for the bottle opener lying on the swing seat next to Willie. “Sure can use it.”

Willie gave him a moment to drink before he spoke again. “Maybe you could have your brother down for a visit, eh? I know Megan wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah? That might be cool.” He did miss Darien; his brother was a person he’d never questioned trusting or being safe with, not for a minute. Darien had his back no matter what, and there wasn’t the worry of messing up the dynamic between them like there was with Brendan. “I’ll ask him what his classes look like. How they line up with our road games.”

“He’s welcome any time.”

“Thanks.” Aaron closed his eyes for a moment, holding the bottle to his lips but not drinking.

“Kid,” Willie said softly. “Any idea what set this off?”

Aaron didn’t know how to say _a shadow, a trick of the light_. He shrugged instead, and set the beer aside to rub his sweaty palms on his thighs.

“I’m just a little off,” he finally said. “Not sleeping great. I’ll fix it.”

“Trainers should be able to give you something to help you sleep.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll talk to them. Thanks.” Aaron looked at his hands for a moment, remembering scrambling frantically at the floor in the showers, his fingernails catching at the edge of the tiles and peeling back, too short to break, just tearing and bleeding.

“Do you ever—” He stopped, curling his hands into fists. “You played in juniors.”

“I did.” Willie’s voice was so carefully calm he must have been doing it on purpose. “BC and Saskatchewan.”

“Did you ever have somebody on the team who was, like, too full of themselves? Too cocky. Someone who needed to learn a lesson.”

“Hmm.” Willie took a long drink. “There were plenty of guys who were full of themselves, yeah. But you know, the game teaches the lessons, we didn’t take that into our own hands or anything. Not on the teams I was on.”

Aaron nodded, reaching for his beer again. Better to keep his hands occupied. “Right. Of course.”

“Course we didn’t have any exceptional status guys. Nobody younger who might have made anybody feel jealous or pissed off or insecure cause of their own issues.”

“Right.” Aaron twisted his hand around the bottle, letting the sweat on the glass and the friction of his palm tear the label. “That makes it different.”

“Your team gave you a hard time?”

“Kinda.” Even saying that much hurt. He had to tear it out of his chest. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You were fifteen?”

“Yeah. But I was big, you know? Not a kid. Already all… grown up.”

“No, you were still fifteen.”

“I wanted to be there. I asked to be there. So.” 

“That doesn’t make it your fault that they roughed you up.”

He couldn’t tell if Willie knew but wasn’t saying it, or if he didn’t know. “They needed to put me in my place. Make sure I knew I wasn’t the hotshot in Barrie.”

“But you still were the hotshot, even if they tried to take you down.” Willie raised an eyebrow at him. “Right?”

“Well, I wasn’t… I wasn’t gonna, like, throw a game or anything.” Aaron shook his head. “That wasn’t me.”

“You’re a good kid.” Willie’s voice was so _gentle_. Aaron couldn’t stand it. 

“I should head in and go to bed,” he said.

“You going to the extra skate tomorrow?” 

“Of course.” Aaron frowned at his half-finished beer. “You want the rest of this?”

“Nah. Dump it in the sink on your way in.” Willie stood and stretched, throwing his arms wide, his shirt riding up and exposing his stomach. Aaron stepped back, gathering up the empty bottles. 

Willie put his arm around Aaron’s shoulders as they walked inside, pulling him into a hug. “You can talk to me any time you need to. Or just want to. I’m around.”

“I know you are.”

“All of us are here for you. Me, Megan, the coaches, the guys. Everybody here has your back.”

Aaron wasn’t sure, again, if Willie was just talking, or if he knew what Aaron wasn’t saying and was trying to communicate in layers. “Yeah. I know. You guys are great.”

“Okay.” Willie clapped him on the shoulder and let him go. “Goodnight.”

“Night.” Aaron retreated to the kitchen and left the beer bottles in the sink, then went to his bedroom and lay flat on his back in the dark, letting his eyes track across the lines of streetlight and shadow on the ceiling.

Tomorrow would be a better day. There was the extra skate, a team meeting, and a defensemen meeting. It would all go fine. He would find his feet again and everybody would stop watching him so closely.

He would _make_ that happen if he had to.

**

The extra skate was good. His muscles burned just right, the way that said they were working at capacity. He hadn’t slept great, but his head was clear and the drills flowed easily. Lu wasn’t there, but Al came out for a half-speed, lazy shooting drill, and Aaron got two pucks past him in the upper left. 

“Got a new sweet spot,” Campbell said, grinning at him and knocking him a foot sideways with his shoulder. Aaron grinned back and skated a slow circle, letting himself just enjoy his body and the cold air and the feel of the ice. This was good. This was exactly what he wanted.

He saw Willie watching him from the other side of the ice and headed in that direction, keeping his stick low. “Hey, Mitchie. You hear that, I’ve got a new sweet spot.”

“You’re a walking, talking sweet spot, Eks.” Willie laughed, reaching his own stick out to catch at Aaron’s. They sparred for a moment, until the whistle blew and they all started for the locker room.

“Meeting’s in half an hour,” one of the coaches called after them. “Try not to be late, we’ve got a lot to cover today.”

Aaron let himself fall to the back of the pack and lingered at his stall, not wanting to get caught in the first rush for the showers. It wasn’t fear, or anything; some days he did go in and scuffle for it, but today was so nice so far, he just wanted to hang back and enjoy it. He wouldn’t be late, he was never late, and that was all that really mattered. 

Willie came out of the showers with Al, laughing at some joke and roughly toweling his hair, dripping water all over the floor. Aaron watched them from the corner of his eye, wondering when he was going to have that ease with himself in the room, when he’d stop feeling a little bit self-conscious about everything. Maybe as soon as next season, when he didn’t have to be the rookie anymore. Maybe ten more years.

He grabbed his body wash and a towel from the stack and went back to the showers. The air was warm and thick with steam, such a change from the dry cold out on the ice that he felt dizzy for a step. He found a free jet and stood under it, tilting his head back and letting it batter his face, licking his lips and tasting the echo of sweat as it washed away.

“Tick-tock, Eks,” someone said. 

He waved a hand at them without looking. “Yeah, I know.”

“He’s practicing for when he gets some commercials,” one of the other guys laughed. “Or a GQ shoot or something. Posing in the shower, eh?”

They all laughed and Aaron flipped them off before stepping out from under the water and wiping off his face. Once his vision cleared he squeezed body wash into his hands and started scrubbing himself down, humming under his breath as the room emptied out. 

He was doing fine. Everything was good. The shadow or fall of the light or whatever it was that got in his head and twisted him up had gone away.

“Aaron?” 

He shook his head and looked through the spray. “What?”

Willie was leaning in the doorway. “Getting coffee from downstairs before the meeting. You want something?”

“They’ll have coffee at the meeting.”

“Yeah, but this is better.” He grinned, and Aaron smiled back, turning to rinse the soap off his back.

“Yeah, yeah. Get me whatever you’re having.”

“Got it.” Willie vanished again and Aaron closed his eyes, letting the water pound against his shoulders. He stretched his arms out slowly, finding the wall and bracing his palms against it, leaning heavily forward to change the angle where it hit.

For a minute it felt good, and then his fingers flexed against the tile and there was a flash, a glimpse of memory fast and crooked across his mind, the same sense-memory as the night before of his fingers scrambling over the shower floor in Barrie. Fighting for purchase so he could brace himself, take even the smallest bit of control, and then maybe he could protect himself or even fight—

He stepped away from the wall and pushed his hair out of his face, blinking the water away. He was breathing hard, all of a sudden. It would have been loud if not for the water.

He shook his head and walked back to his stall, snagging his towel as he went. It was fine. Everything was fine.

**

He played well in the next game, thank God for small favors. It got the coaches off his back, and Willie stopped looking at him in that soft-eyed concerned way. He had his game back and maintained it over twenty-five minutes of play, and that was all that mattered for now. He loved how in hockey the most important thing was whatever happened most recently. A good shift could wipe out almost anything. Scoring points could do even more.

He sat up in the living room after the game, his left ankle propped up and wrapped in ice packs. “Nothing bad,” he said when Megan made sympathetic faces at him. “Just sore. More preventive than anything.”

“I’m familiar with the theory,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll be up for another hour or so.”

“Oh, I’m okay. Thanks, Megan.”

“Will said your brother might come down to visit.”

Aaron shrugged. “I haven’t asked him yet, but maybe. I can put him up in a hotel, he doesn’t have to be in the way.”

“No, of course not. He can stay here whenever he wants. A full house is a happy house.” She brushed her hair off her forehead and studied him for a moment. “Will mentioned you were having a rough couple of days. You feel better?”

“Yeah, I do. Thanks.” He put his best smile on for her. “It was nothing.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing. He said you were really upset.”

Jesus, why couldn’t Willie mind his own business. “I think he misunderstood. I’m okay, really.”

“Okay. Good.” She put the remote down next to him. “I’ll be out on the deck.”

She left and he flipped through channels for a while, finally just leaving it on SportsCenter. He closed his eyes and settled himself more comfortably on the couch, feeling the dull ache of the ice settle into his body. He heard Willie and Megan talking softly out on the deck, and the click of Pinot’s nails across the floor. He knew all the sounds of the house by now. It was comfortable. Safe.

He dozed off like that, the remote slipping from his fingers to the floor.

When he woke up, ESPN was showing cricket highlights and the house was dark. He sat up, groaning softly, and blinked at the bags of now half-melted ice packed around his leg.

“Shit,” he muttered, standing up and hopping awkwardly as he tried to sort out his balance with one leg mostly numb. “Fucking… shit.”

He stumbled to the kitchen and emptied the bags in the sink, leaning on the counter and trying to clear his head. The clock on the microwave said it was three AM. How had he slept for so long? Why hadn’t Willie or Megan woken him up and sent him to bed?

Right, because they weren’t his parents. He was a goddamn adult.

He took a beer from the refrigerator and went out to the deck, leaning on the railing and listening to the hum of insects in the yard. He looked over at Willie and Megan’s window, unsurprised to see that the lights were off. It was three AM. Normal people were asleep.

He’d stopped sleeping normally for a while after he got to Barrie, after… adjusting. He was familiar with this time of night. Florida was different from Ontario, to all of his senses, but the sluggish feeling in his brain and the feeling of being alone with his own body and the moon, those were the same.

He took a slow breath in through his nose, held it, and let it go through his mouth, trying to cycle the tension out. It didn’t work, so he took another drink, instead.

He had been able to play at the level expected of him in Barrie even without sleeping much. He hoped he could do it again here. He was better, stronger, more capable; but on the other hand, the level expected of him was higher. And there was more to lose if he fucked it up.

It would be so much easier if he could really hate them for what they’d done, for hurting him and planting all of these seeds in his head that bloom at the worst possible times and are still tripping him up now, when he should be able to tell himself _that was a long time ago_ and forget it. But they were his teammates. Hating your teammates was wrong. They were trying to make the team stronger, to make sure he knew his place, they were doing it for the _game_ , for _hockey_. That was the most important thing.

Besides, they hadn’t given him anything more than he could handle. The proof of that was that he was still here, wasn’t it?

Unbidden, he remembered Willie saying _No, you were still fifteen_ , right here on the deck, just a few days ago. His heart throbbed, unexpectedly, and he frowned, chasing the feeling down with the last of his beer. Better not to think about it. Always better that way.

He sat down in one of the deck chairs and stretched his legs out, closing his eyes again and concentrating on the sounds of the insects, the buzz of the security lights, the distant sounds of traffic.

It would be easier if he could hate them, or if he could forget. Since he couldn’t make either one of those happen, he was just going to have to live with it.

**

He woke up with Willie standing over him, looking at him with a mixture of concern and amusement. “You slept out here on the deck? You must be entirely made of mosquito bites, kid.”

Aaron blinks and squints at him, slowly becoming aware of the ache in his ankle, and the one in his neck from where the edge of the deck chair dug in, and, yeah, the itchy misery of bug bites. “Umm. Wasn’t on purpose. Crap.”

“What were you doing out here? When we went to bed you were crashed out on the couch. You looked like you were out for the duration.”

Aaron shrugged. “I woke up.”

“Clearly.”

Aaron stood up, then sat down again as his ankle gave a painful twinge. “Guess I need more ice.”

“I thought it was just preventive.”

“I did, too, but it hurts.” Aaron shrugged again. “I’ll ice it and if it still hurts when we get there today I’ll talk to the guys.” 

“Better talk to them anyway.”

They both knew he wouldn’t; going running to the trainers over every little thing was weak. Men played through a little pain. Weakness leaving the body, and all that. Aaron rolled his ankle in a slow circle, judging the level of pain. Yeah. He could play through that.

Willie offered him his hand and Aaron took it, pulling himself up out of the chair. “Is there coffee?”

“Is there coffee, he asks, like he just got here. Of course there’s coffee.”

“And food?”

“My wife is a kind and generous woman who has decided not to make us fend for ourselves today.”

“Cool.” Aaron headed toward the kitchen, hobbling the first few steps and then settling into his stride as the stiffness eased. He could play through this, no problem. Things always seemed way worse than they actually were, once you pushed at them. Ignore them hard enough and they went away.

**

His game stayed okay, but his sleep stayed broken. He could get a few hours at a stretch, but then he’d come wide awake and need to get up and move, pacing around the house or giving up entirely and going outside, walking around the neighborhood and trying not to set off anyone else’s security lights.

After a few days that wasn’t enough, either, and he drove down to the beach to jog along the sand in the hours he was stuck awake. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to tire himself out or just keep moving faster than anything in his head, but if it got much worse the next step was getting in the ocean and exhausting himself by fighting the waves. He loved doing that in the daylight, but at night it seemed like a pretty good way to get himself killed. 

_Body of Florida Panthers rookie washes up in marina, ruins day of fishing for many people._ That would suck.

He settled for adding extra distance to his late-night runs, dragging air in through clenched teeth and fighting through the dull ache of his muscles. He was fucking up his training plan beyond recognition, and eventually someone was going to catch on. But he couldn’t _sleep._ What else was he supposed to do?

One morning he was out the door at three and back, showered, and standing at the coffee maker at six when Willie stumbled into the kitchen behind Pinot. “You’re up early,” Willie said sourly. “All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. What the fuck.”

“Early bird gets the worm, eh?” Aaron handed him the first cup and set a second to fill. “Not sure what I’ll do with a worm, but I’ll have it.”

“In like an hour I’ll think of a dick joke to answer that.” Willie filled Pinot’s dish and leaned against the counter, watching the dog eat. “Game day.”

“Game day,” Aaron echoed. “I’m ready.”

“You’re always ready.” Willie rubbed his face. “Oh to be nineteen again.”

“That’s why they picked me.”

“True enough.” Willie looked at him thoughtfully for a minute. “I know you’ve been hearing this your whole life, and it doesn’t mean much coming from an old fart like me, but you really are doing amazing. You’re a great talent and I’m glad we’ve got you on our team. Pretty damn exceptional, kid.”

Aaron burned, with pride and embarrassment and relief, his stomach twisting up so tightly it was painful. “It does mean a lot coming from you. Thank you. I just, you know. Want to do well. I want to contribute.”

“You are. Absolutely.” Willie stepped away, breaking the spell. “Contribute me some more coffee while I take this gentleman outside, eh?”

“Yes, sir.” Aaron turned back to the coffee maker, grateful for the moment to pull himself together. He shouldn’t react this way to a little bit of praise. Yeah, it was good to know that his captain backed him. But it wasn’t… it shouldn’t make him feel like he was lit up from the inside, like this was the most important thing in the world. That was silly. Overreacting.

And being a kiss-ass, too, sucking up to the coaches and the people in charge, trying to make himself look better and everybody else look bad. Glory-hogging, attention-seeking, thinking he’s so much better than—

He stopped, breathing hard, and put the mug down on the counter before he could drop it. No. It wasn’t like that here. Things were different. He wasn’t going to let himself get pulled back into memories that didn’t matter anymore. He just _wasn’t_. He was stronger than that.

After a moment his breathing steadied and he blinked his vision clear. Okay. He was okay. Everything was fine.

Pinot’s nails skittered over the floor again and Aaron hit the button on the coffee maker harder than he really needed to. Willie would want his coffee. Aaron needed to be _normal_.

“It’s going to be a good game tonight, Eks,” Willie said, walking back into the kitchen. “I’ve got a feeling. A sixth sense for this kind of thing.”

“You feel it in your gut?” Aaron forced a smile and watched the coffee drip into the mug, trying to will it to go faster. “Always trust the gut.”

“You making a weight joke at me, kid?” Aaron looked up, but Willie was smiling, leaning against the counter again. “Because I think I can still take you in a fight.”

“I don’t need to test that.” Aaron looked at the coffee maker again. He wanted to climb the walls or something. Get away. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Just teasing, man. We both know you’d kick my ass. Youth and treachery beats age and experience any day.”

“I’m not treacherous.”

“I know.” Willie sounded puzzled now, and Aaron silently kicked himself, over and over. He kept fucking things up. “I’m still teasing.”

“Yeah. I know.” Aaron stepped back. “I’m gonna go get my bag.”

“You nervous?” Willie reached for Aaron’s arm, and Aaron tried not to flinch, he really did, but the wrong part of his brain was all lit up and painful and raw with memories, and he couldn’t help it.

“I’m good.” He put on his best fake smile, the one for interviews and bad days. “Just need to get my head right, you know? I’m not focused at all.”

“You’ve got some time.” Willie’s hand was heavy on Aaron’s forearm, warm and solid, and usually he didn’t mind when Willie touched him, he liked it, even, but today it was all wrong.

“Your coffee’s ready,” he said, nodding at the machine, and when Willie looked away he slipped out of the room, hurrying down the hall to his bedroom where he could sit and shake in privacy until he had himself locked down again.

**

It didn’t fuck up the game, thank god. He played really well. They lost but it was close; there was nothing to be ashamed of and he had a solid assist that got him a pat on the back from his linemates and an approving nod from Coach. So it was good.

It was after, in the room, that things… slipped.

It was the showers, of course. He went in close to last, as usual, and took a spot where he could see the door and turn his back to the wall. The water was hot and felt good; his legs ached in the familiar way from his cooldown on the bike; everybody was quiet with post-loss disappointment but there was no ugly undercurrent, because they’d made a good showing and nobody was embarrassed. It should’ve been fine. There was no reason that it wasn’t fine.

He had his eyes closed and his head back, letting the water pound on his face, and maybe that was it; there was a moment where he couldn’t hear or see, and that was when someone grabbed him by the arm. 

His pulse roared up in his ears and he jerked away, stumbling and then slipping on the wet tiles. He knew he was falling but it seemed to be happening in slow motion, too slowly to catch himself, and so the only thing that broke the motion was his head hitting the wall.

He fell hard, his vision going gray and a dull roar filling his ears, his heartbeat and the water still pounding down from the shower head, as pain blossomed through his skull. Jesus. Not even on the ice, in the _shower_. After the game. This was going to be so fucking embarrassing, someday, when he could think again around the pain in his head and the tiles slippery under his fingers, impossible to catch a grip on, and the fear choking up his chest.

“Holy shit, Ekblad!” he heard dimly, distantly, and some part of him identified the voice as Pirri. His teammate. Probably Pirri was the one who grabbed him, too, just trying to get his attention. “You okay? Shit. Shit.”

Aaron shook his head a little, trying to clear it and get enough air into his lungs to answer, but the movement doubled the pain. He groaned, curling in on himself and resting his head against the floor. 

Tile floor, wet, water running by his face, fingers scrambling for purchase, pain, pain, voices behind him telling him not to fight, to give it up, to—

“Hey guys!” Pirri was yelling. “Aaron fuckin’… fell, he hit his head, get the trainers.”

“No,” Aaron managed to say. He tried to push himself up onto all fours, maybe he could get to his feet from there, but his body wasn’t listening to him and his head fucking _throbbed_ at just that much movement. “I’m okay, I… I’m okay, I think, I just…”

Thornton and Mitchell were there, suddenly, one on either side of him, kneeling down and looking at him with concern. “Don’t try to move,” Willie said firmly. “Jesus, what happened?”

“I was just stupid. I fell.” Talking hurt, too; his head was throbbing with every beat of his pulse, and making words meant it could throb on every movement of his jaw, too. “I’m okay.”

“He cracked his head good on the wall,” Pirri said, hovering behind them. “Shit, man, I just wanted to borrow your shampoo, I didn’t realize I’d fuckin’ scare you.”

“I was just stupid.” If he kept repeating it, maybe they’ll believe it and go away. “I’m okay, Mitchie, I swear.”

Thornton’s big hand cupped Aaron’s chin, lifting it so he could look in his eyes. “You’re gonna need a concussion protocol, kid.”

“What? No. I’m fine.”

“Better safe than sorry.” Thornton looked at Willie, still holding Aaron’s face. “What do you think, Mitchie?”

The press of his thumb against his jaw made Aaron sweat, his hands shaking more, nails catching at the edge of the tiles, and—

“Definitely better get checked out.” Willie sighed. “Kid, if you’re gonna bang up your head you do it _during_ the game. Don’t give up your brain cells for no reason. I should call your mother on you.”

“Don’t.” The word came out choked, desperate, and it was only half about his mother, at best. The rest was Thornton’s hand on his face, Pirri standing over them, the fact that he was still fucking huddled on the floor and in pain with tile under his body and water pouring down, too much water, too much steam, he couldn’t breathe, it choked off his lungs instead of filling them.

Willie frowned and stood up, hooking one hand under Aaron’s armpit and hauling him up to his feet. “Trainers for you. Definitely. Right now.”

Aaron swayed, reaching out for something to catch himself. There wasn’t anything but Willie’s body, and he couldn’t, he really couldn’t, so he swayed some more, taking a cautious step toward the door that almost sent him to the floor again.

“Jesus.” Willie caught him, arms going around Aaron’s chest. “Are you going to pass out? Or throw up? Talk to me, Aaron, I don’t want you blacking out on me.”

“I don’t know.” Aaron felt like he was burning again, shame and humiliation and fear and Willie _touching_ him. It was too fucking much. It wasn’t fair. “I really need to sit down. I’m fine. I just need to sit down.”

Thornton finally turned the water off, thank god. Aaron could breathe a little bit better just from that _sound_ going away. Pirri pushed the door open and they stepped out into the room, just as the medical staff came hurrying in, all with matching frowns and the general pissed-off agitation of a crisis showing up right when they’d let their guards down for the night.

“Sorry,” Aaron muttered as they sat him down in front of his stall, but no one was listening. “It was just an accident. I’m okay. I’m _okay_.”

“Let us do our jobs, please,” one of the trainers said, holding Aaron’s eyelid open. “And tilt your head back.”

There were hands on him, all over him, and it made him want to shake, but he couldn’t shake while they were touching him because they would _know_ , and you never let people know. Never let it slip. The most important thing was to keep yourself together, keep it all hidden away.

He clenched his fists in his lap, digging his fingers into his palms and feeling the broken-off edges of his nails try to dig into his flesh. They were too short for that, and the shallow sting that they could manage wasn’t enough to distract him. 

He could feel Willie and Thornton and Pirri all watching him, still standing close by, and even though he _knew_ this was different, that they weren’t trying to keep him from telling anything, it still made him sweat. He wanted to shake even more with them standing there watching, their bodies all tense and naked in the fluorescent light, their eyes sharp. It was too close. Too _much_.

“You guys should get home,” he said, hoping his voice sounded light, or at least calm. “You don’t have to stand here and watch me.”

“You’re not going to drive yourself home,” Willie said flatly. 

“I can if they say I’m okay.”

“You _can_ , but you’re not going to. Better safe than sorry, kid, especially in that big truck of yours. You wreck that, you’re going to take a bunch of people out with you, and I know you don’t want to do that.”

Aaron tried to close his eyes, but the trainers wouldn’t let him. “You’re overreacting a little bit, dude.”

“I don’t think so.” He walked away, though, going back to his stall, and after a moment Thornton and Pirri followed him. 

Aaron breathed a little bit easier, glancing up at the trainer closest to him. “So what’s the verdict?”

“No concussion,” he said, stepping back. “But you’re going to have a hell of a goose egg and a bad headache, and Mitchell’s right, you shouldn’t drive yourself tonight or probably tomorrow, just to be safe.”

“You guys want to wreck all my fun, eh?” Aaron forced a smile, but they didn’t return it.

“We’ll have to tell the coaching staff to sit you out tomorrow and probably the next day.”

Aaron’s smile vanished. “What? No. Come on.”

“There could be complications, Aaron.”

“There won’t be. I’m fine. Come on, don’t tell them that I fucking fell in the shower. It sounds like a bad joke.”

“You did fall in the shower.” The trainers all seemed to shrug in unison, and Aaron shut his eyes again. The headache they’d mentioned was already blossoming. “And you need to be careful. Sit out tomorrow, come see us while the guys are skating, we’ll give you a look over and decide about the next day. Okay?”

It wasn’t like he had a choice. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Okay.” He stood up slowly and swayed again as pain and nausea swam in his head. “Fuck.”

“We’ll bring you some pills for the pain. Don’t leave without them.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You hear that, Mitchell?” the trainer called across the room. “You’re his ride, don’t take him out of here without his pills.”

“I’m on it,” Willie called back, and Aaron rolled his eyes, wincing against a fresh burst of pain. He was treated more like a fucking kid here than he had been in Barrie, practically. It wasn’t fair.

Willie stood and watched as he toweled himself off and got dressed, a lot slower than he intended to. Every movement ended up taking longer than it should, and he had to keep stopping for pain or dizziness. “Go ahead and laugh at me,” he said finally, glancing back at Willie. “I know it’s funny.”

“It’s not fucking funny at all, Aaron.”

“Of course it is. I fell in the shower and hit my damn head, it’s stupid and hilarious.”

“Nobody is laughing.” Willie’s voice was tight. He really sounded more angry than anything, and _that_ realization made Aaron’s stomach twist threateningly again.

“It wasn’t on purpose.”

Willie shook his head. “I know that. Get your stuff together, I want to get out of here as soon as the trainers come back.”

“Yes, sir.” Aaron turned back to his locker, taking slow breaths as his head throbbed. 

“Don’t call me sir. How many times do I have to remind you that?”

“I don’t know.” Aaron shoved things into his bag, keeping his head down. “Sorry.”

“When we get home, we need to talk, Aaron.”

Aaron stopped, holding tightly to the t-shirt he’d pulled from the back of his stall. “What?”

“We just need to talk.”

“You’re pissed at me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then what do we need to talk about?”

“I think you know.”

Aaron shook his head, staring down at his hands. “I really don’t.”

He heard Willie exhale roughly, then his footsteps crossing the room to Aaron’s side. “Maybe you really don’t.”

“That’s what I just said.”

“I think that makes it even more important that we talk.” 

“But there’s nothing to talk _about_.” Aaron threw his bag down on the bench. “My head hurts. Can we just go? If you want to talk we can talk, but I just want to get out of here.”

Willie stepped back and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. Fine. Go wait in the car and I’ll get your pills.”

Aaron trudged to the parking lot, stopping twice to shift the weight of his bag and wait out a surge of pain in his head. He hadn’t felt this bad in years, he couldn’t even remember when. And Willie was pissed at him for falling, and Pirri and the guys must think he was fucking stupid, and it was just… 

It was just too much for one day. Way too much. He wanted to go to sleep.

“Aaron?”

He looked up, jerking himself sharply alert. “What?”

Willie shook his head, walking across the lot. “I said wait in the car, not next to the car. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just got… distracted. I was thinking.”

“That was almost convincing.” Willie took his bag and tossed it into the backseat of the car. “Get in and buckle up. I’m still not sure I don’t need to take you to the hospital.”

“Trainers said I’m fine.”

“I heard them. I’m just not sure I agree.” Willie waited until Aaron was in the car, then closed the door. “Seatbelt.”

“I know, I _knowscared_ you.” Willie’s voice was insistent, digging. He wasn’t going to let Aaron get away, and that set Aaron’s heart going fast again. Fuck. He needed to find a way out.

“I overreacted. I know I did. I didn’t mean to scare you or worry you or anything, and I’ll be more careful in the future, I swear. I’ll be really careful.” He stopped, forcing himself to breathe before he spoke again. “I’m really sorry.”

Willie hit the turn signal and Aaron realized that somehow they were only a few blocks from the house. Most of the drive had passed without him noticing it. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want to know what’s wrong.”

The feeling that there wasn’t any way out was crawling up out of his chest and into his throat, choking him. “Please don’t make me.”

“Aaron.” Willie hit the gas harder, rushing them down the streets to the house. “Now you’re actually freaking me out.”

“Please don’t make me say it.” Aaron’s voice shook. “I really don’t want to say it, okay?”

Willie put the car in park and sat there for a moment, staring out the windshield. “Okay,” he said finally. “Yeah, okay, pal, I won’t make you say anything. Let’s just get your pills in you and get you to bed, okay?”

Aaron nodded, undoing his seatbelt and fumbling for the bottle of pills. “I’ve got it.”

They walked into the house in silence, Willie catching Pinot by the collar as he rushed at Aaron. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Thanks.” Aaron waited in the living room, leaning on the back of the couch. “I guess Megan already went to bed?”

“Looks like it.” Willie brought him the glass and opened the pill bottle for him, watching carefully until he’d swallowed them down. “You want to watch TV for a while, or are you going to crash?”

“Crash.” Aaron rubbed his neck again. “I’m exhausted.”

“Of course you are.” Willie turned away, toward the kitchen again. “Get some rest.”

“Thanks.” Aaron watched him for a moment, knowing that he was doing this all wrong, he was fucking up, but he just couldn’t… he couldn’t. Full stop.

“I wish you felt like you could trust me,” Willie said.

“I do trust you.”

“If you trusted me, you would be able to talk to me.”

“No, no. Mitchie. It’s not like that.” Aaron shook his head, then groaned at the pain. “It’s… it’s hard to explain. But it’s not like that. I swear.”

“You need to go to bed. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“I can talk now.”

“No, you can’t, Aaron, you’re about to pass out on your feet.” Willie came back to him, taking hold of his shoulders and walking him down the hallway to his room. “Go to sleep. I promise we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“You promise,” Aaron echoed. The thought of bed was like a magnet pulling him along. If he didn’t have to fight it, he wouldn’t.

“Yes. I do.” Willie opened the door and steered him the last few feet to his bed. “Now sleep.”

“Yes, sir.” Aaron gave up, gave in, melted into the bedding fully dressed and with his shoes still on. It was good not to have to fight anymore. Save the fighting for tomorrow.

**

He woke up in the morning feeling better than he expected to. He lay still for a while, mentally evaluating himself. He was familiar enough with his body by now to tell how it was doing after a game day and a bump to the head.

Not great, not _exceptional_ , but not bad. He was okay with that.

He got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, peed, splashed cold water on his face, and blinked at himself in the mirror for a moment. The bruise on his forehead was ugly, but not terrible. He could tell he would get clearance to practice the next day, so he let that worry go and found a t-shirt and gym shorts. 

Halfway down the hallway he stopped, hearing Willie and Megan’s voices in the kitchen and his own name repeatedly.

“Don’t push him,” Megan said. “Aaron’s old for his age but nobody needs to be pushed on stuff that makes them uncomfortable. Let him go at his own pace.”

“What if that means not going at all? What if he doesn’t deal with it ever?”

“Then that’s what he’s choosing to do. Let him.”

“I don’t know, Meg. That doesn’t seem right.”

“Forcing it never helps anything. Be there for him but don’t push. I really think it’s better to let him decide for himself, Will.”

Willie sighed and Aaron shifted his weight back and forth, unsure if he should go the rest of the way or retreat back to his room.

“You’re probably right,” Willie said finally. “I won’t push him.”

“Thank you.” Aaron heard the sound of a soft kiss. “Go get him out of bed, breakfast is almost ready and you guys don’t have a lot of time before your skate.”

Aaron counted to ten and started off down the hallway again, meeting Willie in the living room. “Morning,” he said, doing his best to smile. “I feel better than I look, I swear.”

“You look better than I was expecting. Good news all around.” Willie caught him by the chin and studied him, tilting his head left and right. “Yeah, you’ll be back on skates tomorrow.”

“Damn right I will.”

“Take advantage of breaks when you get them, rookie. They don’t hand them out like candy until you start getting old like me.”

“I don’t want a break. I want to play.” Aaron carefully stepped around Megan and went to the coffee maker. “Morning, Meg.”

“Morning.” She scooped some magic breakfast casserole thing into bowls for them. “One hundred percent on the diet plan, I promise.”

“You never mess it up.” He took a sip of coffee and closed his eyes tight, letting it move through him. “Oh, wow. Good morning.” 

“He’s so in love with his coffee,” Willie said. “It’s a little pornographic.”

Meg made a face at him. “You’re one to talk. Eat your food and get your bag ready. You’re barely on schedule.”

Willie kissed her forehead. “What would I do without you, babe?”

“It would be the end of you.” She smiled at him, then looked at Aaron. “You need anything else?”

“I’m good. Thanks, Meg.” He kept his eyes down, on his bowl of food. He wished there was a way to thank her for getting Willie to back off that wouldn’t involve admitting that he had been eavesdropping in the first place. She had it just right; he didn’t want to be pushed or forced to talk about anything. He couldn’t imagine how it could help. The best way to help was to forget.

He’d done so well at forgetting before now. He didn’t know why it was all coming _back_.

“Don’t lie to the trainers,” she said, sipping her own coffee. “I know you guys consider it a point of honor, but seriously, let them do their jobs. I don’t want you messing around with concussions.”

“I don’t have a concussion.”

“Hitting your head is never something to be careless about.” She stares at her mug for a moment. “You guys seem to be able to just opt not to worry about it. It’s different for those of us who can’t do anything but watch you.”

“Meg,” Willie said quietly. “Stop, babe.”

She cleared her throat and set her mug down by the sink. “Two seasons left, Will. Protect that head of yours.” She walked out of the kitchen and Aaron stood awkwardly, his breakfast half-finished, frozen in the awkwardness of witnessing something that wasn’t his to see.

Willie sighed and downed the last of his own coffee. “Sorry about that. She worries. The wives have their own network of horror stories and worrying about stuff that they can’t control.”

“Can’t really blame them.”

“I guess not. But it’s not like worrying changes any of it.” Willie looked at him, that sharp, sizing-up stare that Aaron welcomed when he was feeling his best and wasn’t sure he could satisfy right now. “Let’s get down there and get you checked out. Maybe you can at least do some time in the weight room if you can’t be on the ice.”

**

The trainers cleared him to skate the next day, but they told him instead of the weight room he should go ride the exercise bike. The bike was boring, but arguing with them never did anyone any good. He did his mileage, watched the strength and conditioning coach log it, and went down to the locker room. 

He didn’t really need to shower after riding the bike. It could wait until he got home. He just… he needed to check something. He needed to know.

He kept his clothes on and went back to the showers, standing in the doorway for a moment and watching how the light hit the tile and chrome. 

He was thousands of miles away from Barrie, he told himself. The room was different. The water was different. The people were _really_ different. This was the NHL, and teammates treated each other with respect, and there was nothing to be afraid of here.

Of course, he’d said all of that to himself when he left Belle River for Barrie, too. He wasn’t the best judge of things.

He stepped into the shower and turned on one of the jets, then another, walking a slow circle and turning them on until the room was full of the hiss of water and slow-rising steam. He stopped just out of range of the water, a few drops catching his legs and the hem of his t-shirt, and closed his eyes.

It was just a sound. Just water. There wasn’t anything to be afraid of. It was safe. He was just being stupid, and there was no reason for his pulse to be picking up like this. Stop. Slow down. It was safe here.

He reached out until his hand found the wall, and pressed his palm to the tiles, running it slowly up and down. It was different, it was safe, there was no reason to—

His heart was beating so fast he could feel it in his fingertips. He deliberately curled his fingers, catching the edge of the tile with his knuckles. It was a test and he failed, stumbling backward toward the door, his eyes coming open wide but not seeing anything except the cloud of steam and the beads of condensation running down the tiles.

“Fuck.” His voice echoed over the sound of the water. He ducked his head and stepped in close again, turning the jets off one at a time, getting soaked from shoulders to knees. He’d have to steal a t-shirt from Huby’s stall and hope he didn’t notice. That definitely wasn’t his biggest problem, though. Not now.

_I’m getting worse_.

He stared up at the ceiling, the buzzing fluorescent lights echoing back to the same sharp-edged memories, not enough to make him panic but enough to make him _feel_ , no matter how much he tried to push it back.

_Why am I getting worse? Why now?_

There wasn’t any answer to that question. No answer anywhere. It just _was_ , and it was going to ruin everything he’d worked for, unless he could figure out how to fight it back.

He couldn’t think of anything, but he would work harder. That had always been enough before.

**

The rest of the week was rough. A bad game was always, well, bad enough, but knowing that a big piece of why it was a bad game was that _he_ , personally, was playing badly… the only thing worse than that was the fact that his whole team knew it was his fault, too.

Coach Vincent held him after practice after the third day of everything being shitty. He didn’t _say_ anything, he just stood there staring while Aaron shifted back and forth, shredding the ice under his blades. 

“Fundamentals?” Aaron said finally.

“Yeah.” Vincent nodded and Aaron moved off, going into the familiar patterns he’d built his whole fucking life on. Being called out by the skating and skills coach was embarrassing, but this part, where he went back to the beginning like a baby, that was kind of comforting, too. He knew this. His body knew how to do this. Focusing on all the little pieces of it, on doing them all perfectly, was like coming back to the heart of himself.

He ran the drills over and over, until his hands got shaky. When he looked up at the clock at the end of the rink, he realized he’d been doing it for two and a half hours. On top of a full practice. No fucking wonder he was tired.

Vincent was sitting in a folding chair off-ice, eating a bag of M&Ms and making notes on his tablet. “You want to do two more reps?” he asked without looking up.

“I don’t _want_ to, no, sir.”

“Do it anyway. I want your head on straight.”

“Yes, sir.” Aaron took a deep breath and started again, concentrating hard to get past the exhaustion. If he fucked the basics up because he was tired, Vincent would just give him more reps, and he’d be out here until he threw up. 

When he finished the second rep, Vincent got up and walked away without saying anything. That told Aaron two things: he was done for today, and he was still on the shit list. Great.

The locker room was empty, of course, which at least meant there weren’t any sounds to freak him out in the shower. His unease at the sound of the water was mostly held back by how fucking tired he was. He didn’t touch the walls to test himself; he just washed off, got dressed, and dragged himself across the parking lot to his truck.

There was a text on his phone from Willie, asking him to swing by the store and pick up some things on the way home. Aaron stared at it for a long time, debating if he could get away with pretending he never saw it, then put the truck in gear and did as he was told. He definitely needed the dinner Megan was going to put together from those. He had a fucking headache, he was so hungry.

Coach Powers would tell him to get calories right now, even meal-plan-unapproved ones. He swung through McDonalds after the grocery store and ate two value meals’ worth of Big Macs and fries in the parking lot. He was too hungry to wait, and anyway if he took that home Willie would straight-up murder him. Carbs and grease weren’t a fucking joke.

Willie and Megan weren’t in the living room or the kitchen when he got back, so he put the groceries in the refrigerator and went back to his room, lying down on the bed and finally letting the ache and burn in his muscles catch up to him. Maybe it was enough to learn his lesson and his game would come back. Maybe his body could do it on autopilot without his brain.

Not likely.

A knock came at the door. “Kid?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, Mitchie.”

“Can we talk?”

Aaron dragged himself into a sitting position. “Yeah, of course. Come in.”

Willie pushed the door open, but didn’t step inside. “I thought maybe we could go for a walk. Down by the water.”

“Is something wrong?” Aaron shook his head. “Obviously something’s wrong. Yeah. We can walk.”

“It’s not anything you did.”

“It is something I did, or you wouldn’t need to take me on a walk to talk to me about it.” He hauled himself out of bed, grimly pushing down the pain, and slipped on a pair of sandals. “Lead the way.”

Willie caught him by the arm, pulling him to a stop effortlessly. “It’s not like that. I need you to not be pissed off and defensive, okay? It’s important.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m worried about you.”

Hearing it out loud was worse than he expected. A lot worse. “Because they kept me after? I know I’m fucking up, I’m going to fix it. We went back to fundamentals and just, like, leaned on it. I think it really helped. I’ll put in extra time doing that until—”

Willie marched him down the hall and out the side door. “Stop talking, kid. No talking for the next ten minutes.”

“You got a clock?” Aaron asked. It was smartass and obnoxious but if Willie was going to drag him around like this, he probably had the right to be that way.

Willie glared for a moment, then took his phone out of his pocket and set the timer app. “Walk. And shut it.”

Aaron wanted to walk fast, to make Willie work to keep up with him, but his legs were so fucking tired from skating that he couldn’t pull it off. He actually had to work to keep up with Willie, whenever he let his attention slip. It was embarrassing.

Finally the timer beeped and Willie took a slow breath. “So.”

Aaron shrugged. “So?”

“Something’s going on with you, and it would mean a lot to me if you would tell me what it is.”

That wasn’t the angle Aaron had expected this to take. “It would what?”

“It would mean a lot to me.” Willie didn’t look at him, just kept his eyes straight ahead. “I thought we trusted each other, you know? The whole mentorship thing. You don’t trust me enough to talk to me, that means I fucked something up somewhere along the line.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up.”

“Then why won’t you talk about whatever this is?”

Aaron stopped, clenching his fists at his sides and trying to will the sudden burning in his chest to stop. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can. You just don’t want to.”

“No, that isn’t…” Aaron took a breath, struggling to keep his voice even. “That isn’t it. I really _can’t_. I don’t… I don’t have the words. I don’t know how to say it. I don’t know _how_ to talk about it, so I… I can’t.”

Willie looked at him for a minute, then nodded at a flat stretch of sand a few yards away. “Let’s sit.”

They did, Aaron drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them. 

“You don’t have the words,” Willie said carefully. “But could you answer questions? Yes and no questions?”

“I guess so.” Aaron looked down at the sand and pushed his foot against it, building a little ridge. “Yeah.”

“You told me there was some shit that happened when you went to Barrie. Some hazing. Right? You told me that?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes. I did.”

“Is this… this thing that’s bothering you, that you can’t talk about, is it related to that?”

Aaron’s throat was dry. It hurt. “Yes.”

“Was it… was it some pretty bad hazing? Pretty rough?”

“Yes.” Don’t make me say it, he thought, but no; the rules of what they were doing were that _he_ wouldn’t have to say it, he didn’t have to say anything but yes or no. Willie would be the one to say it.

But he didn’t want that, either. He didn’t want to _hear_ it. 

“It was real bad,” Willie said softly. “Right?”

“Yes.” Aaron cleared his throat and squinted down the length of the beach, away from Willie. He was trying to brace himself for Willie to say it, to be ready to hear it, but he suddenly didn’t have anything to brace himself _with_. Everything was gone. He was empty.

“Okay,” Willie said. “Okay.” 

He fell quiet, and it took a long moment for Aaron to realize that he wasn’t going to say it. He wasn’t going to ask anything more.

“Mitchie?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t… want to know anything else?”

“You mean do I want details?”

Aaron shrugged, trying to ignore the way the question sent ice down his spine. “I guess.”

“Would it make you feel better to tell me? Or would it just rip you up worse?”

Aaron closed his eyes. “I don’t—”

“Sorry. Just the first part. Would it make you feel better to tell me?”

“No,” Aaron whispered. “No.”

“Then I won’t ask.” Willie’s hand brushed against Aaron’s leg, and he opened his eyes, staring down at it. Willie’s hands were familiar to him by now; taping sticks, playing with Pinot, holding a beer, resting on Megan while they watched TV. They were safe hands.

“Can I ask you just a couple more questions?” Willie said after another long silence. “No details.”

“Yeah.” Aaron turned his head to rub the point of his shoulder against his eyes. “Go ahead.”

“Has anybody on this team done anything to you? Something that reminded you of that?”

“No.” God, his throat was so dry. It was awful. “No, the guys are… the guys are good. They’re awesome.” Willie’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and Aaron winced. “I should’ve said that first. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. We’re both figuring this out.” Willie dragged his fingers through the sand, crumbling Aaron’s shoe-ridges. “Did something specific happen to make you think about it again?”

“No.” Aaron curled his hands into fists again, and saw Willie notice. “I can’t figure it out. I’m, like, banging my head against the wall trying to figure it out, but I can’t. It’s the… the fucking showers, going in the showers, but nothing’s _happened_ , I can’t figure out why it’s _bothering_ me.”

“The showers.” Willie nodded. 

“That’s what happened with Pirri. When I hit my head. He touched me while I was in the shower. It sounds really stupid out loud.”

“No, it doesn’t.” 

“I feel stupid.”

“Well, don’t. As your captain I’m telling you not to.”

Aaron tried to smile. “Mitchie…”

“Dead serious, kid.” 

“Okay. Okay.” Aaron cleared his throat. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

Willie dug his fingers into the sand and let it run away between them. “Lots, but I don’t think any of it’s anything you want to tell me.”

“Well…” Aaron hesitated, biting his lip. “Try? I mean, try like one question and I’ll see if I can.”

“Can you tell me any of their names? Especially if there are any still playing.”

“Oh.” Aaron’s breath caught in his chest again. “No.”

“If they’re still playing at pretty much any level, I probably know somebody, kid. Somebody who can make sure things get evened out a little.”

“No.” Aaron ducked his head and stared down at the sand. “I don’t want that.”

“Nobody would know _why_. Your name would never come up, I guarantee it. Just… I need this guy knocked around, maybe break a few bones, for a good reason.”

“Don’t.” Aaron made himself look up, look Willie in the eye. “They were my teammates. That matters.”

“They forfeited that when they hurt you.”

“Not to me. Please.” Aaron swallowed hard. “I need it to be like this. Please?”

Willie stared at him for a long moment, then finally looked away and nodded. Aaron managed to take a deep breath again. “All right. If that’s what you need. But if you change your mind, just let me know, okay?”

“I won’t. But if I do, I’ll tell you.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Willie sighed. “Let’s go back and eat dinner, eh?”

“Yeah. I’m starving.” Aaron stood up slowly, dusting the sand off his legs. “Coach Vincent kicked my ass.”

“I’ll have a word with him.”

Aaron froze. “What? No.”

“Not like that, Eks.” Willie reached out and bumped his fist against Aaron’s shoulder. “Just telling him he doesn’t need to break you. Everything you said is between us, I swear.”

“You’ll tell Megan.”

Willie stopped, his brow furrowing, and Aaron almost wanted to laugh, because it was so obvious that it had never even occurred to him _not_ to tell her. “Oh.”

“You need to tell her, huh? Like, you need to do that for you.”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to. I won’t… you can trust me, Aaron.”

“I know.” Aaron rubbed the back of his neck, wishing this wasn’t so hard, wishing it wasn’t… that it just _wasn’t_. “You do need to tell her, though, right? Like, if you don’t, it’s going to rip _you_ up inside, and you’ll end up all messed up and blowing games.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But… it would bother me. Yeah.”

Aaron nodded. “You can tell her. Just tell her I don’t want to, like, talk about it? Please?”

“I’ll tell her.” Willie bumped his shoulder again, gently, and started walking back toward the house. “She’ll respect it.”

“Okay.” Aaron sighed and fell into step with him. He didn’t want any of this. But if it had to happen, it had to, and the best he could hope for was that it would burn itself out of his system soon. Maybe he could get back to normal now. Maybe the remembering would go away as mysteriously as it came. That was all he wanted. 

Maybe things could be simple. Just this one time.

**

They left the next day for a five-day road trip. Aaron welcomed long away stretches; they were easier on his brain, with a hundred things to distract him from whatever it came up with. He could invent problems if he needed to, instead of getting stuck in worry loops. He could learn the layout of their hotel. He could go on an epic journey to find the exact brand of candy or deodorant or hair gel he wanted. 

And there was game prep, morning skate, warmup and cool down, gametime, all even more perfectly structured and organized than it was at home. It was such a relief. It was perfect.

He caught Willie watching him, more than once, but neither of them tried to talk to the other. Megan hadn’t said anything to Aaron before they left, so either Willie hadn’t told her yet or she didn’t want to bother him before a road trip. He was grateful either way; there wasn’t room in his head for that right now, not with everything else buzzing around and needing to be shoved back into its place. All of that was going to have to wait until later, when they got back to Florida.

The last game was in Ottawa, which was awesome. For one thing, they won the game. For another, they were in Canada, so he could go out to the bars with the guys after the game openly. Not that he didn’t drink in the States; not that he didn’t go out with the guys in the States, even. But he had to be at least kind of subtle about it, keep a grip on himself. If he got caught it would be embarrassing. Nobody would arrest him, probably, but it would get the Panthers PR guys pissed off at him, and his agent would call him and tell him to be more careful, and probably his mom would call, too, and—no. Better to just have one or two drinks, keep a low profile, and go home.

In Ottawa, though, he was free and clear. He could be as messy as he wanted and nobody would pick it up short of him actually getting in a fight. The other guys wouldn’t let that happen, they had his back, so he didn’t have to worry, for once. He could blow off some steam. He could get shitfaced.

So that’s what he did. 

It was him and Jussi and Pirri and a couple of others at first who dropped off before they ended up at the third bar. Aaron felt good, he really did; he felt warm and like his skin was kind of vibrating, in a good way. The world was a confusing place, but it had booze and loud music. And his teammates, his boys, looking out for him and buying him drinks and letting him return the favor.

“You’re my boys,” he said earnestly, leaning on Jussi’s shoulder while the waitress lined a row of shots up in front of Pirri. “I’m, like, I’m so glad we’re teammates. Me and you guys.”

“You’re drunk, Ekblad.” Pirri grinned and pushed one of the shots over to him. “But I bet you can take a little more.”

“I can. I totally can.” Aaron downed the shot and closed his eyes, leaning more heavily against Jussi while the burn cut through him. God, it was so good. He could forget about everything and just let this fill up his head instead. Perfect. 

He opened his eyes again and looked at Pirri, who was concentrating on his phone, rolling his own empty shot glass between two fingers. Aaron’s throat went a little dry, looking at him. Pirri was—Aaron didn’t have words for it, never had words for this feeling he got sometimes looking at a guy. It was sort of a twist in the pit of his stomach and heat in the center of his chest. Maybe some of that was the booze, but not all of it. Definitely not all of it.

Pirri’s hair was kind of falling over his forehead, curls defined and held pinned to the skin with sweat. Aaron’s fingers itched to trace the delicate not-quite-circles, run through them and push them back off Pirri’s face, maybe trace over the curve of Pirri’s eyebrow. He got these thoughts sometimes. Only when he was drunk. 

He looked away, hiding his face against Jussi’s shoulder for a moment and then standing up straight. “Another round, eh? Same thing?”

“Beer for me, man,” Pirri said, not looking up from his phone. “I need to space it out a little. Whatever’s on tap. Hey, I’m gonna go outside for a minute, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Aaron watched him leave, feeling the twist in his stomach again. He pressed his hand over it, like that would help, like he could hold things in place. 

“Shot for me, too,” Jussi said, bumping Aaron with his shoulder. “Go on. I hold the table.”

Aaron nodded and retreated to the bar, rubbing his hands on his thighs. He needed to get his shit together and not stare at people. He needed to drink more. He needed to get laid.

Yes. That was definitely the cure for all of it. Another shot and then finding somebody to hook up with.

He ordered the drinks and waited at the bar, taking his phone out of his pocket and pulling up Tinder. He swiped twice, carried the drinks back to the table and downed his shot with Jussi, and kept swiping until Pirri came back. 

“All kinds of shit going on tonight,” Pirri said, taking a gulp of beer and punching Aaron in the arm with his free hand. “Thanks for the beer. Let’s get out of here. Guddy just texted that the bar they’re at is better.”

“I’m in,” Jussi said with a shrug. “Eks?”

Aaron looked down at his phone again and saw that he had a match. She was hot, and in the same bar. “Nah, I think I’m gonna stay here. See you guys at the bus tomorrow.”

“Play safe, baby boy,” Pirri said, ruffling Aaron’s hair, and Aaron’s heart skipped around in his chest, not sure if he wanted to lean into the touch or jerk away from it. “You got your Trojans?”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah, bro.” Pirri flipped him off and chugged the rest of his beer, then made his way to the bar to pay off his tab, Jussi trailing along. Aaron watched them go, then looked at his phone again.

This would fix everything. He would feel better.

_shots on me_ , he messaged the girl. _meet me at the bar_.

**

He got a lot of catcalls when he showed up at the bus the next morning, meaning that Pirri and Jussi had been running their mouths. Which was okay; it meant he was in the “totally normal” category for everyone. 

Willie glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, but Aaron turned away, settling into his seat next to Sasha and putting his headphones on. Willie knowing things made him feel weird sometimes. Not all the time, sometimes it made him feel safe, but those times were mostly at the house. When they were out with the team, it was just… weird. Vulnerable. He didn’t really think Willie would use what he knew to hurt Aaron, but, well, he could. There was nothing Aaron could do to stop it.

Thinking about that made his chest hurt. He closed his eyes and settled into his playlist, focusing on that and his breathing all the way to the airport. 

When they were going through security and waiting for the plane, though, he couldn’t hide as well. Willie showed up at his side, took hold of his elbow, and steered him toward a coffee kiosk. 

“I want to sleep on the plane,” Aaron protested. “I’m tired.”

“Out all night partying. I know.”

“I’m _allowed_.” He knew he sounded like a bratty kid, saying that, but he couldn’t think of anything else right now.

Willie didn’t say anything else until he stepped up to the kiosk and ordered two black coffees. Aaron clenched his teeth and shook his head. “I don’t want any.”

“They’re for me and Shawn. You do whatever you want. Let me know when you get your tantrum out of your system.”

Great. That was just… great. “Sorry.”

Willie raised an eyebrow at him again. “Actually sorry or you don’t actually want to tell me to go fuck myself because I’m your landlord sorry?”

“Actually sorry.”

“Thanks.” Willie started adding sugar and creamer to the coffees. “You sure you’re not getting anything? They have scones.”

“I can’t have scones.”

“You can get away with it better than I can.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, but stepped up to the counter and ordered a latte. He could feel Willie smirking at him, but whatever, he just changed his mind. That was allowed, too.

“So you had fun last night,” Willie prompted after a moment.

“Yes.” Aaron nodded, reaching into his pocket to brush his thumb over his phone. He had her name, number, and a couple of pretty hot pictures she took in the middle of things. He was a real honest to god adult, probably. “She was cool.”

“Where’d you meet her?”

Willie never asked him questions like this. “At the bar. On Tinder.”

“Like… both of those things simultaneously? Remember that I’m old, kid.”

“Yeah, like, Tinder searches who’s close to you, so… in the bar… Why are you asking me questions? You never ask me questions about this.”

Willie shrugged. “Making conversation. Nostalgic for my own misspent youth.”

That didn’t feel like the truth. At least not the whole truth. “Well… that’s all it was. I hooked up with a girl. Her name’s Caitlin. I’ll probably never see her again.”

“We’ll be back in Ottawa again.”

“Mitchie, what the _fuck_?” Some of the other guys looked up at that, looked over at them, and Aaron tried to lower his voice. “Why are you going all dad on me?”

Willie rolled his eyes. “I’m not. Jesus. I’m not. Forget I said anything, eh? I’m going to take Shawn his coffee before it goes ice cold. Don’t be so damn touchy.”

Aaron watched him walk away, his stomach way too tight to even attempt drinking the latte yet. If he couldn’t trust Willie to have his back anymore, he was alone again. Maybe it would be for the best in the long run, but for right now it felt like shit, and he didn’t know what to do.

His hands were shaking, and some of the latte escaped from the cup and splashed down over them, a hot sting that almost made him drop the whole thing. It got him moving, at least, back to his seat in the boarding area, where he could put his headphones back on and wait some more, staring out at the tarmac and trying to figure out what the next step had to be.

**

Back in Florida, Willie acted like nothing had happened, like nothing was different. Aaron couldn’t trust it, but Willie didn’t seem to notice that, either. 

Megan was normal, hugging him and asking for his help in the kitchen later, pointing him to clean sheets folded on the table so he could make up his bed. He smiled at her and got back to his room without saying much. He could sort of still trust her, but whatever he told her would get back to Willie, so he had to be careful. Careful all the time, just like before.

He felt Willie watching him a lot, at the house and at practice and in the team meetings and in the room, but he was determined not to let himself give in to it. He never met Willie’s eyes or acknowledged him at all. It didn’t matter. It was fine. He could take care of himself, just like before.

The showers were still bad; not getting worse anymore, but not getting better, either. He bit down on his lip while he was in there, or dug his fingers into his palms, little distractions to keep himself from losing control. He did extra time in the weight room. He stuck close to the coaches. Just like before.

He felt tired all the time, back behind his eyes, and sick and tense in his stomach, but it was all familiar, and he knew how to work with it. He knew when he could use it, even, make it into something _useful_ for him. That only worked so many times before he had to fall into bed and sleep everything off for a long time—eight hours, ten, more than he ever slept when he didn’t feel bad. Willie had always teased him for how little he slept. He didn’t comment on this now, though.

He made sure that he had himself together on the ice. That was where it mattered. He couldn’t miss a beat out there. And just like before, he could manage it, as long as he didn’t mind that he was burning up everything he might need anywhere else. There wasn’t anything left for off the ice. He couldn’t let himself forget that.

And he did really well at that for a while. Until they went and won a good one.

**

Pirri pulled him into a rough hug and Aaron laughed, leaning against him. They were both wet from the shower, slippery, towels slung low around their waists and threatening to escape at any moment.

“You were good out there, Eks,” Pirri said. “Damn good. Hey guys, tell the kid he did good.”

The other guys hooted and yelled, and Aaron grinned, saluting them and moving down the row to his stall. He _had_ been good out there. He still had that. Things were working.

Willie walked by and slapped him on the shoulder. “Good game, rookie.”

Some of Aaron’s instincts said to flinch, but the rest took over in the haze of tired happiness, and he smiled instead. “Thanks, Mitchie.”

Willie smiled back at him, something easing around his eyes, and opened his mouth like he was going to ask something. Aaron’s heart lifted in anticipation, hoping for—for something, he wasn’t even sure, but he could tell it was going to be something good, something that might fix part of things, enough to help him breathe, maybe, if he was just a little bit lucky—

“Eks!” Huby called. “You’re coming out with us, right? Celebrating.”

Aaron looked at him, then back to Willie, but the ease was gone from Willie’s face, replaced by something wary.

“You should,” he said. “Go celebrate and have fun. Enjoy your youth.”

“Oh,” Aaron said, hearing how stupid he sounded, wanting to bite off his tongue. “Oh, yeah. Okay. Yeah, dude,” he called to Huby, looking away from Willie again. “Sure. I’m there.”

Willie moved away from him, back to his own stall, and Aaron decided that legal or not, Bobby Orr’s disappointment or not, he was getting really damn drunk tonight.

**

He started out hard, matching Kulikov shot for shot. The others all laughed at him for that, and if he’d been sober, he would have admitted that they had a point.

“You’re gonna match drinks with a Russian,” Pirri said, slinging his arm around Aaron’s shoulders. “Kid, you aren’t ready for that. Kuli’s people _train_ for this.”

“True,” Kuli said cheerfully, clinking two empty shot glasses together. “I’m better at this than you are. I’m a little older, you know.”

“I know.” Aaron leaned into the warmth of Pirri’s arm for a moment, then shrugged him off and squared his shoulders. “I can keep going, though. I can do this. Line ‘em up.”

“You’re gonna die, Eks,” Guddy said. “It’s been nice knowing you. Can I have your stuff?”

“No.” Aaron took the next glass from Kuli and took a deep breath. “Send all my stuff to my brother. Tell him I loved him.”

“That’s gay, dude.”

Aaron frowned. “No it isn’t. You’re allowed to love your brother. I’m pretty sure.”

“It’s true,” Pirri said, nodding solemnly. “Brothers are allowed. Fair deal.”

“Drink,” Kuli said. “Haven’t got all night.”

“We do, though.” Aaron started to laugh. He had to set the glass down again so it wouldn’t spill, and Kuli sighed and downed his own shot without waiting for him. “Dude! Not fair. Just give me a minute. We _do_ have all night.”

“I don’t. Drinking, dancing, fucking, sleep. This only part one.”

“You’re killing me.” Aaron sighed and did the shot, gasping as it hit him. “Fuck. Okay. Okay. Dancing? Yeah. Let’s do that.”

“You can’t dance,” Huby said. “You’re awful.”

“Who cares? I don’t care. Come on.”

Huby shrugged and led the way out to the dance floor. Kuli stayed behind with Jussi, but Pirri came along with them, and Aaron was… glad. There wasn’t any reason for him to be. He just was. He liked watching Pirri move under the lights. The music was good and loud, the bass cranked up so he could feel it in his bones, and it felt _good_ to lose himself in it. He didn’t have to think. He could just watch Pirri move, and ignore Huby laughing at him, and let girls dance up on him if they wanted to. They were all really pretty, tan and tiny and soft-skinned under his hands. It took like four songs before he thought maybe he wanted another drink.

He went back to the table and leaned on Jussi, sniffing at his neck.

“Stop that,” Jussi said patiently.

“You smell good.”

“I wear cologne. I am not an animal.”

“I know you’re not. You’re great.” Aaron pressed his face against Jussi’s shoulder for a moment, then stood up straight. “You’re my friend.”

Jussi half-smiled at him and handed him a beer. “You need this.”

“I do. I really fucking do.” Aaron took a drink and looked out at the floor again. Pirri was dancing with a girl now, his hands cupping her ass while they swayed together. It made Aaron feel… weird. His stomach, his chest, up into his throat, it all felt weird and tight and he didn’t know why.

He tried to think of other times he’d felt like this. When he looked at Pirri off-ice, when they were out like this and the light was soft and they both had a buzz on. When he watched Sid Crosby skate, or Seguin, or Kopitar. And when Willie looked at him that one way, like he had at the airport in Ottawa.

He took another drink and almost choked on it, his mind buzzing too fast around the idea forming in his head. Maybe—maybe things had started to get worse, maybe this was all coming back in his head again because—

He knew what happened in Barrie wasn’t _sex_ , exactly, or it was sex but not the good kind, it was—it was something else, but maybe something deep in his brain wanted to hook up with a guy and have it be good this time. Maybe that would balance out the other thing and reset him. Maybe it would let him let it go and be happy.

It made a lot of sense, the more he thought about it. By the time he finished his beer, it made perfect sense. He needed to kiss a guy. He needed to let a guy touch him, put his hand on his dick, put his dick _in_ him. Then he could really let Barrie go. It would be like a school science experiment, pouring vinegar into baking soda and letting them burn each other out.

He put the bottle down and smiled at Huby and Pirri as they came back to the table. He couldn’t tell them what he’d figured out, of course not, but there was no reason not to let them know he was happy to see them.

“What are you smiling about, Eks?” Pirri bumped his shoulder against Aaron’s and grabbed a bottle from the table, frowning when it turned out to be empty. “I need a beer. Do we not have any more beer? What the fuck.”

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Jussi said. “Boring here. Find a better bar and get someone else to buy us a round.”

“Smart man. Jussi Jokinnen is a smart man.” Pirri leaned into Aaron, laughing a little. “God, you’re so drunk, kid. You want to go somewhere else or are you going to ditch us again to get your freak on?”

Pirri was _so_ pretty in this light. And he smelled good, too, not the same as Jussi but good in his own way, warm and a little spicy and a lot like beer. Aaron suddenly realized that what he was feeling, right now, looking at Pirri, was _I want to kiss you_. He could, too. They were close together, he could feel Pirri's breath. It wouldn’t be hard to kiss him. Maybe it would be easy after, too, maybe Pirri would kiss him back and smile at him and take him home to do the part that would fix him.

He caught himself just in time and took a step back. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ditching you guys again. Have fun, eh? I’m gonna just… here.” He waved his hand. “You know.”

“Have fun and use protection,” Pirri said, grinning and rolling his eyes. “Come on, dudes. The kid needs to pick up in privacy, apparently. Too good for the rest of us.”

Jussi and Kuli both punched him in the shoulder on their way by, hard enough that he knew it was going to hurt in the morning, even if he wasn’t feeling anything right now. When they were gone, he went over to the bar for another beer and took his phone out, blinking slowly at it until he got his Tinder app up and opened the settings.

Okay. No big deal. Just change it over so he was looking to match with guys. He wasn’t sure what he would do when he _was_ matched, but he could figure it out on the fly. He was good at thinking on his feet, as long as he had a plan.

He changed the setting and chugged the rest of his beer, closing his eyes to swallow it all down.

When it was gone, he opened them again and swiped.

**

He sat at the bar for what felt like a really long time, looking at the pictures on Tinder and trying to pick one to swipe. He was getting some attention, electronically; that was kinda cool. Guys thought he was hot. He could take the compliment.

But there wasn't anybody he wanted to swipe back. They were all... not quite right. Not what he wanted.

He turned the screen off for a moment and tried to think about what he did want.

He wanted the guys he'd been thinking about before. Guys who came from the same place he did. Not literally, not Belle River, but hockey. Guys who would get it, his weirdness, all the ways he had to be careful.

Guys he knew, except for Kopitar, but that was more of a... That was more of a normal crush. He could probably ignore that one.

Guys he knew, guys he trusted.

Mitchie.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and waved to the bartender. "Whiskey coke, please," he said, ordering the thing that past experience said would kick his ass as fast as possible. He wanted to be done thinking about this. He didn't want to think about it anymore, or ever again.

"Thanks," he said when the drink was ready. "Uh, keep em coming?"

"Nobody says that in real life," the bartender said. "Just so you know."

"Got it." Aaron took a drink and closed his eyes. Maybe it would work fast.

**

He was sitting in a parking lot, on a curb, his head between his knees. He'd just puked up at least a kidney. Maybe a lung.

Too many drinks. And he hadn't stopped thinking at all. It had just gotten even louder in his head, and impossible to get away from.

"Excuse me."

He flinched away from the flashlight beam in his face. "What?"

"Are you all right?"

It was a cop, he realized, and he tried to sit up straight. "Oh. Uh. Fine."

“Are you intoxicated, sir?”

Aaron looked up, squinting against the light and trying to see the officer’s face. “Um…”

The officer sighed and lowered the light a fraction. “Just move along. You can’t sit here.”

“My car isn’t here,” Aaron said. “I mean, I can’t go anywhere, I don’t have my car.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to drive it anyway,” the officer said flatly. “Find a cab or find your friends, but you can’t stay here.”

“I don’t know where they went.” Aaron sighed and got to his feet. He had just enough of a grip on himself not to apologize to the officer for being drunk when he was too young to do that in this country. It was close, though. Jesus, he was fucked up.

“I don’t really care.” This guy was rapidly running out of patience, Aaron could tell. He shouldn’t push his luck. “Just move along.”

“Do you know where I can get a cab?” Aaron asked plaintively. “So I can go home?”

The officer pointed at the street. “That way. Now move along.”

Aaron shuffled to the sidewalk, reminding himself over and over not to look back or ask any more questions. He’d dodged a bullet and could still get caught if he wasn’t careful. And he _did_ want to go home. 

He stood on the sidewalk for ten minutes, halfheartedly waving at cabs as they went by, before he remembered that he could just get an Uber from his phone. Fuck. Being drunk made him stupid as hell.

**

The car dropped him off in the Mitchells’ driveway. He gave the driver the rest of the cash in his wallet as a tip.

“Thanks man,” the driver said. “Drink some water or something.”

“I will,” Aaron said, nodding. His buzz had entirely worn off into a dull stupor that came complete with a headache. He wanted to throw up again and then go to bed. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” The car pulled away and Aaron stood watching it go, not remembering to move until the taillights vanished from view.

Right. Into the house. Water. Throwing up. Bed.

It took him a few tries to get the door open, the alarm chirping a stern warning at his first two efforts to put in the code and his key trying to slip out of the lock until he guided it with both hands. He heard Pinot’s low, anxious barking and winced, whispering “Shh, shh” as he let himself in, re-armed the alarm, and sat down in the dark to take his shoes off.

Pinot did not stop, and a moment later he heard Willie’s sleepy cursing and the sound of the bedroom door opening upstairs.

“Just me,” Aaron called out, getting to his feet. “Sorry. Go back to bed.”

“It’s two in the morning.” Willie came down the stairs rubbing at his face. He was wearing boxer-briefs and socks and Aaron just stared at him for a minute, nearly losing his balance. He’d been thinking about Willie so much tonight but thinking didn’t match reality. Looking at him was so much _more_.

“Aaron,” Willie said, stopping at the foot of the stairs. “What the fuck?”

“Nothing. Sorry. Go back to bed.”

“You can barely stand up.”

Aaron looked down at himself, then back at Willie. “I’m okay.”

“You’re drunk off your ass. What the…” Willie exhaled and nodded at the living room door. “Sit down. I’ll get you some water.”

“I can get it.”

“No, you fucking can’t, kid. Sit down.”

Aaron gave up and did what he was told, making his way to the couch and collapsing in an uncoordinated heap. He felt worse by the minute. Water might not even help.

“What were you drinking?” Willie asked when he came in with a giant glass of water. It had _ice_ in it. Aaron took two careful swallows and then just held the glass to his face. “Did they talk you into tequila shots?”

“I had some of everything,” Aaron mumbled. 

“The guys let you mix your liquors?” Willie shook his head. “That’s a dick move. I’m gonna have to talk to them.”

“No. No. Don’t.” Aaron shook his head and pressed the glass against his left eye. “Wasn’t their fault. I was… thinking too much.”

“About what?”

Aaron couldn’t tell him _that_. “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know. They left, they went to another bar, and I stayed and kept drinking, and it was…” He shrugged. “Dumb.”

“They left you alone?” Willie’s face was expressionless in a way Aaron knew was bad. “Drink it, Aaron, don’t just hold it.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” Willie looked away for a minute, and Aaron followed his gaze. He was looking out into the hallway, at the square of light coming from the top of the stairs. From where he turned it on when he came out of the bedroom. Oh. Aaron’s stomach flopped and twisted. 

“Go back to bed,” he said. “Go back to Megan. It’s fine. I’m okay.”

“You sure? You look like you need some help.”

“I don’t. I don’t need any help.” Aaron stood up, and that was it, that was the last straw; every time he stood up all evening it had been more difficult, and now he’d hit the damn wall. “I gotta… I’m gonna be sick.”

“Aw, jesus, Aaron.”

Aaron made it to the kitchen sink, which was far from ideal but better than nothing. Almost everything in his stomach was liquid anyway. 

Willie came up behind him once he was just dry-heaving and wishing for death. “Towel,” he said quietly, pressing one into Aaron’s hand. “Stand up and catch your breath.”

“I really didn’t mean it to be like this,” Aaron mumbled.

“I know you didn’t.”

“I’m gonna feel like shit in the morning.”

“You are.” Willie started running the water in the sink. “And we’re still going to the arena to work out.”

“We are?”

“Bad decisions don’t change the schedule, kid. Welcome to the NHL.”

Hearing him say that, hearing the tone in his voice when he said it, made Aaron want to cry more than anything else had tonight. “You’re pissed at me.”

“No.”

“You’re… you’re disappointed in me.”

Willie clicked his tongue again. “A little. But I remember doing this when I was your age, so not too much.” He turned the water off and caught Aaron’s chin in his hand, studying him carefully. “It’s kind of nice to see that you really are a kid instead of a hockey prodigy grown in a lab, I guess.”

“I’m just a person.” Aaron closed his eyes, wishing he could sink into Willie’s touch, wishing he could… could… wishing he could do things. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” Willie’s thumb rubbed against his chin in slow, gentle arcs, until he cleared his throat and pulled his hand back abruptly. “Let’s get you another glass of water and then I’m gonna put you in bed.” 

Aaron obediently drank half the water before Willie walked him down the hall. “A cop yelled at me.”

“What?”

“I was in the parking lot and he said I had to go home.”

Willie made a sound that was either a laugh or a groan. Aaron couldn’t tell. “God, you are lucky you’re white and Canadian and look older than you are.”

“Yeah.”

“You really could’ve ended up in a lot of fucking trouble, Aaron.”

“I just felt really bad,” Aaron whispered.

Willie stopped moving for a moment, but Aaron was suddenly too tired to look at him, too tired to try to figure it all out. He kept moving, and Willie followed him a beat later.

It was a relief when he turned out the light.

**

Given how sick he got that night, what he did next was counterintuitive, but he couldn’t deny that it made him feel like he still had some shred of control over things. He still put hockey first, pouring as much as he possibly, physically could out onto the ice. He was close to perfect there, and improving at a slow but steady rate that pleased the coaches. They were smiling at him again, and pushing his training schedules forward, bit by bit. 

And off the ice, to keep himself calm and his thoughts numb and all of the hot sick memories tucked back where they were supposed to be, he drank.

He went to bars with the guys, mostly, rotating who he tagged along with to keep it less obvious. Pirri and Huby one day, Jussi and Guddy another, and the whole group after games or if there was something to celebrate. A birthday, a personal best, buying a car. Lots of things merited a celebration and then they could all go together. 

He bought bottles for at home, too, stashing them in his dresser drawers and drinking his way through them carefully. Only when he couldn’t sleep, or when his brain started racing too fast or going too deeply into things he didn’t want to remember. He showered with the curtains open, at home, and with his back to the wall, in the locker room. If anybody noticed that, they didn’t say anything.

It was harder to overlook other things, ones it hadn’t even occurred to him to worry about. Like when he was sweating out the night before’s binge mid-ice, and the guys could smell it. The first and even the second time, they laughed about it, but after that, they looked at him blank-faced and cold, and he knew, with a bone-deep fear he hadn’t felt since Barrie, that he was getting close to fucking this up bad enough that it couldn’t be brought back.

He knew Willie was watching him as closely as anyone else, but he didn’t _say_ anything. He just watched, with the same black, chilly judgment, and never said a thing, in the locker room or at the house. Aaron was alone with it, and somehow, at some point, he’d stopped being any good at that. He hurt all the fucking time, inside and out. It was too much.

It was Megan who finally sat him down and talked to him, which he hadn’t expected at all. What could she have to say? What had she seen, what had she been thinking about?

“All right, honey,” she said quietly, sitting down on his bed with her legs folded neatly beneath her, wearing a tiny t-shirt and yoga pants that distracted his eyes, no matter how many times he sternly ordered himself to look away. “It’s time to stop this now. You’ve got to.”

He didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t know what she meant. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not? What could happen?”

He knew his answer was stupid and weak, but it was all he had. “Everything will hurt too much.” She sat still for a moment, her eyes fixed off to the side like she was trying to decide something, and he just couldn’t leave her on the hook. “Mitchie told me he was going to tell you. About what happened. The stuff.”

“He told me a little bit. Not everything.”

Aaron shrugged. “I didn’t tell him everything either.”

“You’re afraid someone else will hurt you?”

“Kind of. But I’m also afraid I’m just too broken to ever fix.”

“Oh, baby.” She reached out to cup his cheek in her hand. “I promise, you’re not. A person isn’t like a vase or a cup or something. You don’t shatter and lose pieces like that. People are like… like little trees, or bushes, okay? You get twisted up, you get bent around, you get hurt, but you’re still alive. You’re still growing.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me,” he said, blinking hard against the sting in his eyes. 

“I want to.” She stroked his cheek slowly. “You need to stop with the drinking now, okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded a little, careful not to dislodge her touch. “Yeah, I know I do.”

“Willie is so scared for you he can barely function.”

“He hasn’t said anything.”

“He’s not really sure where he stands with you right now.” She brushed her thumb over his cheekbone and raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you could sit down with him and clear that up.”

“I don’t know either,” he admitted. “I don’t know anything right now, I don’t know how anything fits or… that’s why it all hurts so much, I think. I’m… I’m lost.”

“If you talk to people who love you, they can help you find your way again.”

“I don’t think so. Not with this. It would hurt them too much to know about it. And when they found out they would all treat me differently, and I don’t know if I can take that. I’m pretty sure I can’t.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, her hand going still. “Aaron, honey, Willie and I know and we’re still here.”

“I know! I know. But he’s upset with me, and you don’t want to deal with this, and I can’t tell my parents or my brother, you know, that just wouldn’t be right, and Brendan isn’t someone who can… and Claudia, I don’t think…”

“Aaron.” She dropped her hand from his face to take him by the wrist, and looked intently into his eyes. “Aaron, what I’m trying to tell you is, you can talk to us. We love you, and we _can_ handle hearing about it. We’ve been around the block enough times that it won’t hurt us to know. We’re not your family, and we’re not… kids who aren’t ready for this. We’re in kind of a unique place where we can help you. If you’ll let us.”

He stared at her, trying to sort the words into something that made sense, stumbling over three of them. “You love me?”

“We do, honey. We love you a lot.”

“But… but why?”

She smiled and leaned in to kiss his forehead. “Sometimes it just happens that way.”

**

He went looking for Willie later, checking every room in the house before Megan noticed his wandering and told him Willie was down at the boat.

“He said he wasn’t going out, just doing some work on it at the dock,” she said, looking at him over the edge of her tablet. “So he shouldn’t be hard to find.”

“Should I take something with me?” he asked. “Food or beer or something?”

“You don’t have to give him presents to get him to talk to you.”

“I was thinking more of a peace offering. Since I’ve been such a dick lately.”

“He’s not mad at you.”

“Still.” He shrugged, helpless to put it any more in words than that. 

She closed her eyes briefly. “Trust me, honey. You don’t have to take anything.”

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. Um. I’ll see you later, then.”

“It’ll be okay. I swear it will.”

He managed a half-smile and left the house, trying to control the familiar flush of trepidation as he climbed into his truck and set off for the marina. This could be bad, it could be really bad. It could hurt a lot. Or it might be okay. He couldn’t and he might not ever be able to anticipate which one, or prepare himself for it. The ability to do that was just a piece that was missing in him.

Or growing in the wrong direction, he thought, remembering Megan’s metaphor. Maybe he could grow it back right if he had enough time. Time and space and help.

He still couldn’t entirely believe that anyone could or would want to help him. That didn’t seem realistic. It went against most of what he knew about the world.

But he’d never had trouble admitting that he didn’t know everything.

He could find his way to Willie’s boat in his sleep. He stood on the dock and looked at it for a moment, until he saw movement on the far side and recognized Willie’s low cursing. “Ahoy the ship,” he called, following the script he still wasn’t sure Willie hadn’t invented just to make him sound like an idiot. “Permission to come aboard.”

Willie came around to his side of the deck, pushing his baseball cap off his forehead. “Aaron?”

“Yeah. I hope it’s okay I came down here. Meg told me where you were.”

Willie rubbed his hands on his shorts. “Everything all right?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Of course. You can always talk to me.” The wariness, the distance, didn’t leave Willie’s voice or body, though, and Aaron had to fight down the urge to turn and run. This didn’t feel safe, like talking to Megan had. This felt like it could turn bad.

He dug his fingers into his palms and stood his ground, rocking slowly from heel to toe. “Permission to come aboard, then?”

“Right, yeah. Of course.” Willie waved him forward and Aaron climbed aboard, looking around at the tools scattered on the deck. 

“Need help?” he asked.

“I was just going to take a break, actually.” Willie nodded at the cooler sitting inside the cabin door. “Come join me.”

The cooler was full of ice and beer. Aaron didn’t miss the twist to Willie’s mouth when he pulled two beers out and held one toward him. He took it, but didn’t open it yet, just rolled the bottle between his hands.

“Meg and I talked,” he said after a moment, when it became clear that Willie wasn’t going to speak first.

“Oh?” Willie took a drink, watching him. “About what?”

“About… about how I have to stop doing what I’ve been doing.” He looked at the bottle in his hands and knew that one beer wasn’t a big deal in the scheme of things, and that any time other than right now it wouldn’t mean anything to Willie at all. Right now, though, it was definitely a _thing_ , and he did what he needed to do and set the bottle down on the deck.

Willie tracked the motion, then looked at him again. “You’re going to stop? Or you just talked about it?”

“I’m going to stop.” He wished he had pockets, or somewhere to put his hands. They felt useless. “I’ll be better. I’m sorry I messed up.”

“Kid.” Willie sighed and took a drink, looking away, then set his own bottle aside. “I’ve been so fucking worried about you.”

“Meg said so. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been fucking sick, worrying about you.”

He didn’t know how many more times he was going to have to say it. Probably a lot. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate seeing you hurting. I hate knowing I need to do something but not knowing _what_.”

“You don’t have to do anything for me, Mitchie. It’s not your fault. It’s not your problem.”

“You’re not listening, Aaron. I _want_ it to be my problem.”

“I don’t know _why_.” The echo of himself from earlier caught him. “Is it because you love me?”

Willie went still. “What?”

“Meg said—she said you—both of you, I mean, she said you—”

“Shit,” Willie whispered. “Oh…” He shook his head and stepped closer, reaching toward Aaron but not quite touching him. “Yeah, Aaron. We do.”

Aaron felt like he was on the edge of something, just a little too close. He might fall, and if he did he would never make it back. He needed to step away, take back just a little bit of distance. “Like… like I’m your kid, eh? The kid you found on the side of the road and brought home. Like a puppy.”

Willie went still, and his eyes flicked away from Aaron, out to the water. It was just for an instant, just a heartbeat that Aaron skipped, and then Willie pulled him into a hug and rubbed his back slowly. “Yeah, Aaron. Just like that. We want you to be safe and okay, we want to help.”

“Thanks,” Aaron whispered, letting himself relax into Willie’s touch. This was far enough back from the edge that he could bear it. This was safe. “I’m sorry I’ve been so awful. I’ll do better.”

“I’m not saying you have to be a monk. But keep it reasonable, okay? You can’t show up at practice fucked up and hungover. You just can’t.”

“I won’t.” He shook his head, rocking his forehead against Willie’s shoulder. “I swear. Not again.”

“Good.” Willie patted his back and stepped away, holding Aaron at arm’s length and looking at him intently. “Anything you want to talk about right now?”

“I just really needed to fix things with you, I guess. I needed you to… to be able to look at me again.” 

“I’m looking at you.” Willie squeezed his arm. “Now. We can get back to work or we can stow this crap and go out for a while. Just a short spin, be home in time for dinner. What do you think?”

Aaron smiled for the first time in days. “Tell me where you want me to be, captain.”

**

Things were better after that. He was kind of amazed at how much better they were, just from knowing that Willie wasn’t mad at him anymore. 

He knew Willie was keeping an eye on him, and that Meg was, too, but that was… it was okay, now, since he had a way to frame it in his head that made sense. He was their kid. Their adopted puppy. They loved him like you loved anything small and dumb that needed to be taken care of.

Part of him hated himself for needing that at all; another part hated himself for pretending this was what he wanted, when he still _knew_ perfectly well that he wanted something else from Willie, at least—

No. A crush on another player was not acceptable. It was a quick route to a trade out of town, and he wasn’t going to risk that, not after he was barely back on the coaches’ good list with his return to form at practice.

He didn’t go out with the guys anymore, and they didn’t ask any questions. He still watched Pirri out of the corner of his eye, at team meetings and in the locker room. He didn’t talk much. He still had to fully earn his way back into the team’s trust, he knew that. Willie backing him up was a good start, but he had to do the work. Being a rookie meant every single day was a test.

He was more comfortable with that than anything else, honestly. Living in a constant state of testing was what he _knew_.

As for his brain and the tricky, distracting memories, they weren’t getting worse anymore but they weren’t getting much better, either. He could get through most of a day okay, and then something would come into his head out of nowhere and he would be off-center and unable to get it back for hours. He moved back toward not sleeping much, and walking around the house at weird hours. 

It took him a few weeks to notice that Willie and Megan didn’t tease him about that anymore. Before, Willie would get mock-exasperated at him for not getting a solid eight hours, and Meg would offer him herbal teas and aromatherapy and noise machines and other kind of hippie stuff to help him sleep. Now they just watched him in the mornings, looking kind of thoughtful and kind of concerned.

He hoped they wouldn’t ask questions. He really didn’t want to talk about it. There was nothing to say.

**

One night he woke up in a sweat, his breath harsh and ragged in his chest. He couldn’t remember the nightmare once he opened his eyes, but it wasn’t hard to guess what it was about. His body ached with phantom, remembered pain. His throat hurt from old cries, never allowed to be full screams.

He pushed the blanket back and realized his sheets were soaked with sweat. The pillowcases, too, though maybe—

He touched his face and yeah, maybe the pillowcases were wet with tears. That was fucking humiliating, even though he was alone.

He stripped the sheets and pillowcases, wiped his face with them, and made his way out of his room and down the hall to the washing machine. He could toss them in now and run the wash, make up his bed from the spare stuff in the linen closet, and watch TV until it was time to rotate them to the dryer. Then maybe he could get another hour or two of sleep before his alarm went off and he had to get ready for bus call. They were flying to… somewhere, today. He stared at the wall above the washing machine and tried to remember.

Vancouver? Yeah. Homecoming for Willie. He would have a lot on his mind and didn’t need distractions from Aaron.

He poured the detergent in and started the washer, leaning against it for a moment and feeling the vibration running through his body. God, he _was_ tired. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was like he’d been beaten on for days, sticks and pucks to the ribs, hard checks into the boards.

He pulled away and moved down the hall again, switching the lights off and heading for the kitchen. He’d get some water and settle in with whatever middle-of-the-night shit was on ESPN Classic to kill the time. He could make up the bed after he started the dryer.

“Aaron?”

He jumped, nearly falling into the refrigerator. “Megan?”

She rubbed her eyes and switched on the light at the foot of the stairs. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know. Why are you up?” She gave him a flat look that it took him a minute to recognize. “Oh. Because I’m up.”

“Yes.” She moved past him into the kitchen. He looked away; it wasn’t okay to watch her when she was wearing a tank top and her underwear. Not sexy underwear or anything, but still, he could see her thighs, her hips, the small of her back where the tank top rode up and he could see the elastic pressing against her skin—

“Do I always wake you up when I wake up?” he asked.

“I don’t know. If you wake up and I don’t wake up, how would I know?”

He frowned. “Crap.”

“Something like that.” She handed him two mugs. “Water for both of us. Ice in mine, please.”

He obediently turned to the dispenser on the refrigerator. “What woke you up this time?”

She ran a hand through her hair and leaned against the counter, watching him. “Well, we’ve been keeping a little closer eye on you lately. In case you needed us.”

“I’m okay,” he said immediately, reflexively.

“You’re doing laundry at three in the morning. And you did your laundry for the trip yesterday, so it’s not that.”

He sighed and handed her the mug of ice water. “Sorry I woke you.”

“You’re going to make me ask, huh?”

He mirrored her pose, leaning against the counter and taking a drink. “I had a bad dream. Got sweaty. I didn’t, like, wet the bed or anything.”

She watched him, tapping her fingers against her mug. “What kind of bad dream?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Do you ever remember? Sometimes?”

His heart was thudding behind his ribs. It hurt. “Sometimes. Not often.”

“But often enough to guess what it was probably about.”

“What else would it be about? Nothing else bad has happened to me in my entire life.”

“Do you think that makes this not count?”

He put his mug down on the counter. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Aaron.”

“Please.”

She blew out a slow exhale. “All right.” She straightened up, absently tugging her top down to cover her hips. “Come on. Let’s find something to watch until you’re tired.”

“Don’t you want to go back to bed?”

“I don’t have a flight in the morning. I can sleep all day if I want to.” She nodded toward the living room. “Come on.”

“What about Willie?”

“He’s asleep. He’s got Pinot.”

Aaron’s smile felt like his face broke, but the next breath came a little easier. “Pinot’s a good bodyguard.”

“You get me instead.” She walked to the couch, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he followed, and after a moment, he did.

She sat at one end and tucked her feet up under herself. “Grab the remote, and then sit here with me, okay? You can lie down if you want to. I promise, no more talking. We’ll just watch something stupid until you fall asleep.”

“I’ve gotta make up my bed again. And put the sheets in the dryer.”

“I promise you, this one time, I can handle it.” She held her hand out to him. “Please?”

He couldn’t not. She said please. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He got the remote and sat down next to her, stretching his legs out in front of him. He still hurt, everywhere. The flight was going to be miserable.

“Lie down,” she said softly. “You can rest your head on me. It’s okay, Aaron.”

He didn’t want to be inappropriate. He didn’t want to make things weird. He desperately, desperately wanted to lean on her, wanted her warmth and breathing, wanted to know he wasn’t so as fucking alone as he felt.

“Yeah,” he whispered, swinging his legs onto the couch and letting himself settle against her. He closed his eyes tight. “Yeah, okay.”

**

Aaron took a hit early in the second period, not awful but definitely not a love tap. It was enough to send him down the tunnel, where they looked him over, declared him intact, and sent him back again for the third.

His head hurt; even with no concussion, bouncing off the ice hurt. He worked his mouth guard forward and back, sucking at the plastic and watching the other guys skate. They were down by one. He knew he would be back in shortly, but for the moment he wasn’t even eager. He knew he needed to be, needed to get hungry, but his head hurt. And his neck. He could play through it, but it wasn’t going to be his best, and not being his best fucking sucked.

Soupy nudged him with his shoulder and he moved automatically, following him out onto the ice and setting himself up for the drop. 

The period passed in a blur. He knew he wasn’t at his best, but he wasn’t fucking up, either. Soupy was doing his best to be a cushion and keep him out of harm’s way, which he appreciated even as he resented needing it. Their line rotated off the ice pretty fast, anyway. Everybody was starting to drag.

Guddy tipped one in to tie the game. Aaron closed his eyes and emptied a water bottle over his head, getting ready to dig deep and be ready for overtime. Painkillers and sleep would fix everything, but there was another mile to go before he got to those. 

“You okay, kid?” Thornton asked, bumping him with his shoulder. Aaron sat up straighter and nodded, squinting up at the scoreboard clock as it ran down.

“I’m good. Yeah. Let’s do this.”

It was a grind, it was fucking awful, but they did it. Willie got the game winner, which was great, it was amazing. Scoring a winner on his home ice, against one of the teams that cut him; it was kind of epic, actually. Despite the ache in his head, Aaron couldn’t stop smiling, and caught him up in a hug as they left the ice.

“Fuck, yes,” Willie said, rumpling Aaron’s hair and grinning at him. “That felt good.”

“You gonna go out and party?” Aaron asked.

“What do you think?” 

Aaron laughed. “I think every bar in Vancouver better get ready.”

“My buddies I’m meeting up with are all settled down and serious these days. It won’t get too crazy.”

Aaron shrugged. “No judgment here. You earned it.” 

“Rookie.” Willie pulled him into another hug, bumping his forehead against Aaron’s. “Have I told you lately you’re a good guy?”

Aaron didn’t really want to pull away, but bumping his head around hurt. “Yeah, of course. You always tell me.”

“Well, I mean it.” Willie went serious all of a sudden, staring at Aaron like he really wanted him to _get_ it. “You’re a good kid, and you work hard, and… and you deserve good things.”

Aaron blinked against sudden heat behind his eyes. “Thanks, Mitchie.”

“You’re welcome.” Willie looked away. “Better go do the scrum. You going out tonight?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Well, have fun and be careful.” Willie moved off and Aaron stood there for a moment, then shook his head and started stripping down. He needed to hit the bike before he could shower and get out of there, or he would catch hell from the coaches. Always work harder, always level up, no matter what.

By the time he got to the showers his head was throbbing, his neck protested if he turned to the left, and his right shoulder was twinging in the way that meant he needed deep heat and a rub-out. That would all have to wait until they got back to Florida. He was too tired to deal with it tonight.

There were two other guys in the shower, Huby and Sasha, and they weren’t even paying attention to him, they were planning their night out. But something… something flipped the switch in his head, inevitably enough that he could almost feel his thoughts slowing down and turning to the side. A trick of the light, a smell, the sound of the water hitting the floor just so; he didn’t know what it was. Maybe a combination of that and the dull pain messing him up. 

The memories rose up like water and his hands started to shake. He braced them on the wall, then jerked back, because of course that was worse, of course it—

“Hey Eks,” Sasha called. “Coming with us?”

He didn’t want to, but he wanted to be alone even less. Maybe in a crowd he could stop shaking. Maybe in a crowd nobody would notice if he didn’t. He could disappear in the noise.

“Yeah,” he said, reaching for his towel. “Yeah, definitely. Count me in.”

**

Some of the guys were watching him at the bar, he could tell, but he wasn’t in the mood to get wrecked, anyway. He just wanted to be around people. So he kept himself to two beers and took his time with both. That seemed to satisfy their curiosity, and nobody said anything.

After a while he realized it wasn’t really helping, being out here. He wasn’t shaking anymore, but he was exhausted and sore and he wanted… he wanted something else. Quiet and somewhere to lie down were the first things that came to mind.

He paid for his beer and shook his head at Sasha’s questioning look. “I’m gonna head back,” he called over the crowd noise. “Tired.”

Sasha gave him a thumbs-up and Aaron left the bar, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking the two blocks back to the hotel. The fresh air eased the ache in his head a little, and the comparative quiet of the traffic noise let him think more easily.

He didn’t actually want to be alone, he realized as he reached the hotel lobby. He just didn’t want to be in a crowd. One-on-one time with someone might be okay. Just being quiet with somebody, watching TV or something. 

Of course the first someone who came to mind was Mitchie.

The team always assigned the rooms in the same order within their block, anywhere they went, so it wasn’t hard for Aaron to find Willie’s door. He knocked and waited, rocking back and forth on his heels, then knocked again, then realized Willie must still be out with his friends.

He stared at the door, still steadily locked and not budging. Shit.

Pain flared from his neck to his head and he sighed, sinking down to sit on the floor and lean back against the wall. He would just sit here for a few minutes and see if Willie came back. No more than ten minutes. Then he’d drag himself back to his own room and find something on TV and a bag of ice for his head. It would be fine. No big deal.

**

“Aaron?”

Aaron jerked awake, scrambling at the carpet under his hands. “What?” He was lying on his side on the floor, looking at a pair of dress shoes and the cuffs of a pair of suit pants. He dragged himself up to a sitting position, rubbing at his face. “Shit. What?”

“Are you drunk?”

That was Willie’s voice, Willie’s very angry voice. “No! No. I’m not, I swear.”

“Why are you passed out on the floor outside my room if you’re not drunk?”

“I wasn’t passed out.” Aaron blinked up, squinting to see Willie’s face against the glare of the hall lights. “I was just asleep.”

“On the floor. Outside my room.”

“I was waiting for you to get back.”

“Did you call me?” Willie frowns and digs his cell phone out of his pocket. “I don’t see any calls or texts.”

“No. No, I didn’t. I just, um.” Aaron’s face is so red it hurts. Great. “I fell asleep.”

Willie sighs and reaches over Aaron to unlock the door. “Let’s take this in here before we wake up everybody on this hallway.”

“Probably nobody else is back yet.”

“Just come inside, Aaron.”

Aaron followed him in, glancing around automatically even though of course the room was identical to the one he was splitting with Sasha. Willie’s suitcase and duffel were on one bed by themselves, that was the only difference.

“How were your buddies?” Aaron asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Did you have fun?”

“It was good. Yeah. Good dinner, good wine. Catching up.” Willie shrugged out of his suit jacket and looked at Aaron for a moment. “So you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aaron said immediately. 

“Okay. Let’s try again with less lying.” Willie runs his hand over his hair. “You went out with the guys, didn’t get drunk, came back looking for me, and fell asleep in front of my door.”

Aaron nodded. “That’s all true.”

“I can’t really imagine you doing any of that, especially without texting me, if nothing was wrong.”

“My head hurts,” Aaron said, because it was the first thing that came to mind.

“Aw, shit.” Willie stepped close and took hold of Aaron’s chin, tilting it up so he could look at his eyes. “They cleared you after that hit, I thought—”

“No! No. Not that kind of hurt.” Aaron knew he should pull away, but he leaned into Willie’s hand like an attention-starved puppy. 

“What kind of hurt, then?” Willie was still checking his pupils, turning his head side to side to change the angle of the light.

“Just… tired. Sore. Thinking too hard. Maybe anxious? I guess? And my neck hurts, but that’s probably just from the hit.”

“Thinking too hard and anxious.” Willie closed his eyes and let his hand drop. “You have a fucking tension headache, Aaron.”

“Oh.”

“Kid…” Willie looked at him again, half-smiling. “I’m not mad. Just… you’re tired and sore and you wanted to see me?”

Aaron knew he had to answer for real. It was so fucking hard to say. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Why not?”

Fuck. He was going to _make_ him say it. “I was thinking about the… the thing. The locker room. The showers.” He shrugged. “You know.”

“Oh.” Willie exhaled slowly through his teeth and tugged Aaron toward him, then sat on the edge of the bed. “You want to talk about it?”

Aaron sat down beside him. “No.”

“You know I’ve gotta ask one question.”

“Go ahead.”

Willie’s hand was still on his shoulder, warm and solid and squeezing a little as he asked, “Anybody on our team do something to set it off? Say something? Anything at all.”

“No.” Aaron managed a smile. “No, our team is good. It’s not anybody or anything, Mitchie, it’s just… me. I’m the problem.”

“There is nothing wrong with you.” Willie said it so firmly, with such conviction. He said it with his captain voice. Aaron couldn’t even try to argue with him, even though he knew he was wrong.

“I just want something to fix me,” he said, looking down at the space between them. It wasn’t much; just a handspan of the mattress. It shouldn’t be hard to cross.

“You don’t need fixing.”

“I do, though. Because I want… I _want_ things, but I’m scared to go after them, because I know it’ll hurt, but I want them so fucking much, and if I could just be _fixed_ then I could have them.”

“What kind of things?” 

Aaron knew he should stop, pull back, do _anything_ except what he was about to do, but his heart was pounding and his head hurt so bad he could barely see and maybe this was one of those things where the only way out was through the wall. “Just…” He leaned forward and grabbed wildly, catching the front of Willie’s shirt and pulling him forward. They met with a sharp impact of teeth that echoed through Aaron’s head, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to kiss Willie. Finally.

And it didn’t scare him at all.

Willie pulled back slowly, sucking in a sharp breath. Aaron tasted blood in his mouth from where his teeth cut into his lip. He licked at it and ducked his head, staring down at the bed to keep from looking at Willie’s face.

“Aaron.”

“I’m not sorry.”

“Okay, but… we can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Aaron…” Willie took a breath and Aaron stood up, so fast his head spun a little.

“Right. Right. You love me like a kid, like a puppy. Not… not kissing. Right. That was stupid. I’ll go.”

“No, stay put.”

Aaron laughed, sharp and breathless and it _hurt_. “I really can’t stay here now, you know.”

Willie stood up, unfolding like a killer robot in a movie, and when he talked it was in his _captain_ voice. Aaron had been trained his whole life to obey older guys talking in that voice. It wasn’t fair. “Sit. Down.”

Aaron did, but on the other bed, so he and Willie were facing each other. He gripped the edge of the mattress with both hands and stared at the floor between the beds. “I get it. It won’t happen again.”

“Just stop for a minute and let me think.”

“There’s nothing to think about.”

“Just _stop_ , Aaron. Jesus.”

Aaron shut his mouth and pushed his tongue against his bitten lip, probing the sore spot until it bled fresh. It seemed right for this conversation. Tasting blood, imagining it staining his teeth. It definitely went with the fear surging in his stomach and the pain in his head. The only thing wrong was the fabric under his fingers instead of shower tiles, and no rush of water in the air.

“You said you wanted something to fix you. And that you just… wanted things.” He stopped long enough that Aaron realized he wanted a reaction, and nodded. “Which one was kissing me about? Fixing or wanting?”

Heat and pressure behind his eyes, tears that couldn’t be allowed to fall in front of anyone else, not ever. “I don’t know. Both.”

Willie’s fingers drummed against the edge of the mattress, catching Aaron’s eye enough that he lifted his head slightly. “You think that making out with me will fix what those guys hurt?”

“I don’t know.”

“I know you don’t know. Give me your theory. How you think it might work.”

Aaron caught at his lip with his teeth again, tearing the cut wider. “Maybe making out. Maybe more. Maybe I have to go all the way, you know, do… everything. Maybe if it’s, like, better sex and not all fucked up, it’ll fix me.”

Willie drew in a breath that sounded painful. Aaron flicked his gaze back down to the carpet. “What they did wasn’t sex, Aaron. It was… wrong.”

“Like I said. Fucked up.”

“What does it all have to do with just wanting me?”

Aaron had to look up then, because there was no reason for Willie to ask such a dumb question unless he was deliberately messing around. But he didn’t look like he was; he just looked confused, and upset. God, Aaron shouldn’t have done this. He should’ve stayed out with the guys or else gone directly to bed, and been smarter in the morning.

“I want you,” he said. “But I can’t, like, go for it, because I’m scared. But if you fix me, I won’t be scared anymore. So it’s like… a twofer.”

Willie scratched at his beard, staring past Aaron at the wall. “I guess I can sort of see the logic you went through to end up there. It’s not actual logic. But as _you_ -logic, the mind that comes up with the things you do…”

“Don’t make fun of me right now.”

“I’m trying to break the fucking tension, because I kind of feel like I’m choking to death, here.”

Aaron shrugged. “I feel like that all the time.”

“Jesus, kid.” Willie rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands. “We’ll talk about this back in Florida. At home.”

“We don’t have to. We don’t ever have to talk about it again.”

“We’re going to talk about it. Extensively. In-depth.”

Aaron nudged him with his foot until he looked up, then met his eyes, maybe for the first time all night. “Are you going to tell Megan?”

Willie didn’t look away. “I think I have to, don’t you?”

“I… I guess so. Yeah.”

“She’s not going to be mad at you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know her pretty well.”

Aaron stood up again, slowly this time, and Willie didn’t stop him. “You don’t owe me anything. My problems aren’t your problems.”

“Unless I want them to be.”

“You shouldn’t want that.”

“Yeah, well. When did you get the idea that I believe in should?”

Aaron couldn’t think of an answer to that, so he turned and moved toward the door. Willie didn’t say anything else until Aaron’s hand was on the latch.

“Please don’t do anything stupid.”

Aaron stopped. “I won’t.”

“Just go to sleep, and I promise, when we get back we’ll… we’ll talk this out. I _promise_ , Aaron.”

Aaron nodded and looked back at him. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and nodded again. “You’ve never lied to me, and… and I can wait another twelve or fifteen hours or whatever. It’s okay.”

He honestly didn’t know if he meant it or not, but he must have sounded convincing, because Willie let him go. He walked back to his room, where Sasha was already stretched out in his boxers, watching a basketball game.

“Is this live or an old one?” Aaron asked, sitting down on his bed.

“Old. Very old.” Sasha glanced at him. “Where’d you go? Thought you were tired hours ago.”

“Yeah. I just. I went for a walk.”

“You sick?”

“No, no.” Aaron leaned back against the pillows, still in his suit, knowing he wasn’t going to sleep that night. “I’m fine, man. I’m fine.”

**

When they got back to the house the next morning, he muttered something about taking a nap and went back to his room. They had to have their part of the conversation, and if Willie was wrong and it ended with Megan kicking Aaron out of the house, he would rather not hear it happen live. 

He sat on his bed and clicked around on his laptop, half-reading write-ups about the game, half listening for any sound from the rest of the house. He couldn’t hear anything, except at one point Pinot gave his little baying yelp sound that meant he wanted to go out, immediately. He heard the side door open and close, and then it was quiet again.

A few minutes later, a knock came at his door, and Megan opened it a handspan. “Are you decent?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He closed his laptop and stood up, wincing as he caught his knee on the edge of the bedside table. “Ow.”

“You didn’t have to get up. Sit. I’m gonna sit, too, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. Yeah.” He sat down carefully, on the edge of the mattress this time, his feet on the floor so he could move in an instant. “It’s your house, you know.”

“I do know that. Yes.” She pulled the little armchair by the window closer to the bed and sat, folding one leg over the other and clasping her hands over her knee. “So. Will called me last night and told me what happened.”

“Last night?” Aaron stared at her. “That would’ve been, like… really, really late. With the time difference.”

“It was. But I don’t sleep well after a game if we don’t talk, so it wasn’t hard to wake up.”

“And he told you that I…”

“Yeah.” She studied him intently for a moment, her face unreadable. “You know he loves you.”

“I know. He loves me like a kid, like a puppy, whatever. We talked about it.”

She shook her head slightly. “No. That’s what he told you, because he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. He thought you might be scared of him if you knew he had a crush on you.”

This must be what drowning felt like, only it’s inside his head, it’s his brain filling up with water and sinking away. “A crush?”

She made a face and looked out the window. “I know it sounds stupid. I tried to think of another way to put it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He loves you like a person he wants to kiss, Aaron. _I_ love you like a kid, so I can tell the difference. Trust me.”

Aaron opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find a handful of thoughts that made sense and could be strung together into something useful. “He thought I’d be _scared_ of him?”

“Well, with what happened when you were younger, having someone with power over you be interested in you might…”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, it’s not like that at all. He’s not… I mean, what you’re saying makes sense, I guess, but it’s not how I feel.”

“That’s good. That’s really good. Because if you were scared of him like that he might throw himself off the boat.”

He bit his lip, finding the place that was still sore and digging his teeth against it. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

“But I want… and he’s your husband. And he… he maybe wants… that’s not cool, you know? That’s not okay.”

She laughed, so softly he had to look at her to be sure. “Aaron, honey, if that was going to be a problem you probably should’ve thought about it before you kissed him at the hotel, right?”

“I’m thinking about it now. I don’t want to mess you guys up. I don’t want to ruin anything.”

“You can’t.” She sounded so _calm_. There had to be a trap he wasn’t seeing, because this didn’t make any sense. “We’ve been to this rodeo before. Well. Not this exact rodeo. Similar rodeos. Not… usually it’s goalies, I don’t know, Will is who he is.”

Aaron stared at her for a beat, then leaned forward, putting his head between his knees. “This is a lot. I don’t. I don’t know.”

He felt gentle pressure on his hair, then her fingers slowly carding through it and scritching his scalp. “It’s okay, honey. I promise, it’s okay.”

“I come into your house and I bring all these fucking problems.”

“Like I told you before, we’ve got a little extra room to deal with them. And for this part, we’ve even got experience that might help.” She slid her hand down his cheek to his chin and gently lifted it until he was looking at her. “So maybe you’re just ending up where you’re supposed to be.”

“I don’t know _how_.”

“Nobody’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. That’s the most important thing.” She let go of his chin and brushed his hair back from his forehead. “He’s so scared of hurting you, he took off with the dog and sent me in here.”

“I like him so much,” Aaron whispered. “I love him.”

“I know you do, honey. I do, too.”

“What do we do now?”

She smoothed his hair again. “You come to the kitchen, we have some coffee, and we wait for him to get back.”

“What happens when he gets back?”

She half-smiled and stood up, offering him her hand. “We have round two of this conversation.”

“Oh man, I’m so not ready for that.”

“We’re establishing ground rules and talking theory. Not practice, not yet.”

“I get to practice?” He followed her to the door. “Are there drills? I do better with drills.”

“Aaron, don’t make me make dirty jokes about my husband drilling you when we haven’t had the coffee yet.”

He blushed hard enough it hurt and was silent the rest of the way to the kitchen. He wasn’t sure coffee was a great idea; he already felt kind of like he might explode from nerves and pouring caffeine on that might be the last straw. But Megan wanting to sit in the kitchen with him, wanting to share something with him, that was the most normal thing she could ask for. That was the one thing that convinced him that this was okay.

**

They were on their second cups when Willie and Pinot came back. Aaron was pretty sure he was actually vibrating in his seat. He spread his hands flat on the table and stared at them.

“What a nice long walk,” Megan said drily. “He won’t have to pee for a week. Do you feel better?”

“I’m fine.” Willie shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re both still here.”

Megan rolled her eyes. “Sit down.”

He did, angling his chair away from them both. “Aaron? You gonna look at me?”

Aaron obediently lifted his head. “You don’t have to, like, indulge me, you know.”

“I’m not.”

“We’re not,” Megan said, reaching out to touch Aaron’s hand. “I told you. It’s okay.”

“She doesn’t lie to you, either,” Willie said.

“That’s true.” Aaron nodded and sat up a little straighter, hoping Megan wouldn’t move her hand from his. “So… so you guys do this a lot?”

“Not _this_ , specifically,” Megan said. “We’ve been open before, in various ways with various people. But this is a little different.”

“Because I’m messed up.”

“Because you need a little help,” Willie said quietly. “And you seemed like you trust us… me… to help you.”

Aaron frowned at him. “Of course I trust you.”

“There’s no of course about it. I’m really… it means a lot that you trust me.”

“It’s a lot of pressure,” Megan said. She was looking at Willie, a little unguarded, and Aaron could see the worry and love she always had when she looked at him. He always looked away when he caught her looking like that. It wasn’t for him. It was theirs.

“I do kind of okay under pressure,” Willie said, almost smiling. “I mean, I’m no penalty killing machine, but I can perform.”

“She’s gonna tell a dirty joke about that,” Aaron said, and his voice sounded so hopeful and awkward, like a little kid desperate to get the grown-ups to praise him.

They did both smile at him, though. So maybe it wasn’t the worst thing.

“Nobody’s going to do anything you don’t want to do,” Willie said. “Seriously. Not ever. You change your mind, you get tired of dealing with it, anything at all, just say so. Nobody’s going to hold anything against you. You don’t owe anybody anything. Okay?”

“I… I think so. I need a little time, I think. To think. And, like. To pee.” He looked at the table again. “I drank so much coffee.”

This time they laughed, and thank god, the tension finally eased enough for him to breathe. “Okay,” Willie said. “Fair enough. I’ve gotta take a nap, I didn’t sleep at all on the plane with Lu jawing at me.”

Megan stood up and gathered the coffee mugs, then moved toward the sink, and Aaron stared at them both in confusion. 

“What happens next?” he asked, just before Willie got to the stairs.

They blinked at each other, then looked at him. “You let me know when you think you’re ready,” Willie said finally. “And we’ll take it from there.”

**

Aaron waited for a week, just to see if they would really _wait_. They couldn’t possibly have meant it; they would get impatient and push.

Except they were Willie and Megan, and basically perfect, and they didn’t push at all. They just went on with life, like everything was normal. Aaron rode to practice and meetings and games with Willie, he cooked with Megan at night and did his share of the laundry, they all played with Pinot and watched TV together when they had downtime. They went to the beach one night and sat by the water drinking caipirinhas. Neither of them said anything about it, and when they touched him it was all _normal_ ways—Willie’s arm around his shoulder, Megan kissing his cheek and laughing when he wore the lipstick print for an hour.

He waited a second week, just to be really sure, and then he had to admit he was waiting because he didn’t know what to do next. Let Willie know when he was ready—yeah, sure, but how did he know if he was ready? And once he did, how was he supposed to let Willie know? Set off a flare? Jump him after practice? In the showers, maybe, just for a little extra irony and symbolism and—

He checked that thought and spent an unhappy hour with another tension headache. Fuck. He didn’t know how to do this.

One more time, hockey helped him out. It was nice when it loved him back.

They beat the Devils, in Jersey, and Aaron had a goal and an assist. He felt so good coming off the ice, he wanted to soak up all of the hugs and back-slaps and praise. Everything felt good, he didn’t hurt at all.

He caught Willie in the locker room and got pulled into a hug, a long, solid one with Willie laughing in his ear. “Good job, kid. Good game. You’re practically glowing, look at you.”

“I’ve got my game back.” Aaron leaned on him for another moment, tucking his face against Willie’s shoulder, then pulled back just enough to speak in his ear. “I’m gonna come by your room tonight. I won’t fall asleep this time.”

Willie went still for a moment, then nodded, patting Aaron’s shoulder and letting him go. Aaron understood the point, but he still stared at Willie while he crossed the room, and stole more looks at him from his stall. He just wanted some kind of sign that he hadn’t messed things up, that Willie still wanted this. If he’d changed his mind, Aaron did not have a backup plan. At all.

Willie caught him looking eventually and rolled his eyes. _Yes_ , he mouthed at him from across the room. It was followed by a look that was pretty easy to read; stop acting twitchy and be normal. He couldn’t promise that but he could at least stop staring and concentrate on getting his stuff together.

“Eks, you coming out?” Guddy asked. Aaron shook his head, keeping his eyes fixed on his gear.

“Not tonight. Gonna take it easy.”

“You don’t want to celebrate? You’re the man of the hour.”

“Next time.”

“Oh, you think you’ll have the same kinda game next time? That’s a little cocky, rookie.”

Aaron winced, ducking his head over his bag. “Sorry. But not tonight, okay?”

“Mitchie,” Guddy called. “We need to take this kid out and bring him down a peg or two.”

“Leave him alone,” Willie said without looking up. 

“Aww, c’mon.” 

“Leave him alone. Not everyone wants to experience New Jersey.”

Guddy shook his head and stepped back. “Disappointed in you both!” 

“I can live with it,” Willie shot back. 

Aaron lingered over his bag until he was pretty sure he was the last one in the room, but when he looked up, Willie was waiting at the end of the bench. “Sorry,” Aaron muttered.

“We’d better go or the equipment guys are going to be pissed.” 

“Right. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” Willie stood up and raised his eyebrows at him. “It’s okay, you know.”

“What’s okay?”

“Being nervous.”

Aaron shrugged and headed for the door. Nervous would be okay, yeah. But he was scared, and that was different.

“We won’t do anything if you don’t want to,” Willie said.

“I know. You keep telling me that.” Aaron dragged his hand through his hair. “But I don’t want to do anything. Except that I _do_. It’s both at once and that makes it really hard.”

Willie reached past him and put his hand on the door before Aaron could open it. “We need to talk about this.”

“Not _here_.”

“No. But I’m just letting you know, when we get to the hotel, we’re not going to just… dive in. We’ll talk. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Aaron nodded and stared at the door. “Let’s go, though. Before the equipment guys kill us and it doesn’t matter.”

**

They ordered dinner up to the room, and one beer each. “That’s not really enough to take the edge off,” Aaron said, trying to laugh.

“If you need to be drunk to do this, we can’t do this.”

“I don’t _need_ to be, but… I’m not gonna lie, it might help.”

“You’re that nervous?”

Aaron took a drink, holding it on his tongue for as long as he could before he swallowed. “I’m scared. I want it but I’m scared it’s going to hurt and be awful and… I’m scared.”

Willie nodded slowly. “Well, first of all, we’re not going to do that. Penetration. So it shouldn’t hurt.”

“But you’re supposed to fix me.”

“Aaron, I’m pretty sure hurting you all over again isn’t going to fix you, and you’re so tense right now there’s no way it wouldn’t hurt you. You have to be relaxed for that to be good. You have to trust your partner.”

“I trust you.”

“Not about this. It makes sense that you don’t. I’m not taking it personally.”

Aaron killed the rest of his beer. “Well, what are we going to do, then?”

“Finish eating, first.” Willie shook his head before Aaron could answer. “That’s non-negotiable. Eat your food and don’t talk until it’s gone.”

Aaron was hungry enough not to argue with that. He finished eating before Willie and sat waiting, his leg jiggling and his fingers drumming at the table if he didn’t pay attention and stop himself. Willie watched him with that half-fond, half-exasperated expression Aaron had gotten used to since the beginning of the season. 

“Okay,” Willie said finally, pushing his plate away. “Jesus. Okay.”

“Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Then just _tell_ me.”

Willie stood up. “Come here.”

Finally, something was happening. Aaron felt a rush of adrenaline like he was about to go on the ice. He stood and moved to face Willie, keeping his arms at his sides and his hands loose, ready. Anything Willie wanted him to do, he would do it right away, so he didn’t have time to think.

“Relax,” Willie said quietly.

“I’m good. I’m ready.”

“Relax,” Willie said again, settling his hand on the back of Aaron’s neck and guiding him forward slowly. “Take a breath.”

Aaron did, drawing it in and letting it go with a slight huff of a question in it, but before he could actually speak Willie was kissing him.

It was good, like in Vancouver, but slower, and neither of them broke away. Aaron knew how to kiss, of course, he knew how to make that good, but Willie was going so slow, so patiently, like it was a challenge, to see how long they could make it last. Every time Aaron tried to get more aggressive and speed things up, Willie ignored him.

Aaron slowly realized that this was really all Willie was going to do right now: kiss him. Stand there in the middle of the floor with the room-service trays next to them, kissing, and not even touching anywhere else except Willie’s hand on Aaron’s neck. That was _all_.

He pulled back enough to take a breath. “You’re supposed to be fixing me.”

“This is step one.”

“I’m not scared of kissing. Kissing is fine.”

Willie looked at him, his eyes all hot and so _close_. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me how good you are at kissing. C’mon. We’ve got all night.”

Aaron looked around the room. “Could we sit down, at least? Maybe lie down? There’s a bed and all.”

“Sure.” Willie let him go and backed his way to the bed. “But right now is kissing. That’s what I want.”

Aaron licked his lips. “Fine. I guess.” 

Willie sat down with his back against the headboard. “Wherever you’re comfortable.”

“Stop—stop being so nice. You don’t have to be nice, or gentle, or… or anything.”

“Aaron.” The _you know better_ and _stop fucking around_ were equally loud and unspoken. Aaron took a breath and got onto the bed, crawling the length of it to straddle Willie’s lap. Willie just looked at him, steady and intent and hot, and for a moment Aaron wondered if this was real, if it was really okay to kiss him. Just kiss his captain like it was no big deal. Kiss the guy who was willing to put time into making the world make sense for him.

“You okay?” Willie asked softly. He settled his hands on Aaron’s hips—big hands, broad, warm, _steady_ —and Aaron took a breath, nodded, and leaned in to kiss him again.

It was still good, and then it got better, because there was more contact, more warmth, and Willie’s hands wandered up and down his back in gentle, exploring touches. Aaron had to tense his muscles to keep from arching into the touch like a cat. He was trying not to embarrass himself, but it was hard like this, with Willie’s hands and mouth on him, and Willie’s breath against his skin, and—and, yeah, Willie was getting hard, he could feel that, too. It made his breath stutter and his body get even more tense, and Willie broke away from the kiss.

“You need to stop?” he asked, his voice rough.

“No. Don’t stop. I want… I want to push through it.”

“Not a drill.” Willie kissed the hinge of his jaw, then just under his ear, and it made Aaron shake all the way down to hips. “Nobody evaluating you.”

“You are, a little bit.”

“No.” Willie shook his head and caught Aaron’s mouth again, his hands rubbing slow circles at the small of Aaron’s back. “I’m not.”

Aaron closed his eyes and rocked down against him, helpless to instinct. It felt like there was a current crawling under his skin, trying to burn its way out, scary, intense, but it also felt so fucking _good_. He didn’t want it to stop, ever, but he also needed it to _end_ so he could figure out what was left of him. He was still dressed, and that was embarrassing, that he’d forgotten to strip down, that he hadn’t even let Willie look at him. But on the other hand, Willie was still dressed, too, so maybe it was okay, maybe it was part of whatever they were doing. He should trust that Willie knew what he was doing, that all of this was on purpose, that there was a plan—

Willie’s hands tensed against him and his hips rolled up sharply, the friction between them hitting Aaron better, enough that he moaned. It was impossible to get really perfect contact like this, still dressed and at the angle their bodies met, but this was close. He didn’t seem to need perfect. Good was getting him there just fine.

“Come for me,” Willie said softly, coaxingly. “It’s okay. Feels good, right? Just relax and feel it. Let yourself go. I promise, baby, it won’t hurt you.”

Willie calling him _baby_ made him shudder again, helpless and raw instinct, his brain completely uninvolved. He clutched at Willie’s wrists and dug his fingers in hard, grinding down against him and finding that not-quite-perfect-but-good-enough spot again and going after it until he was there, his breath stuttering and his brain going white for just a second. 

It was _quiet_ in his head, for just a second.

“Fuck,” Willie breathed, and he shifted under Aaron’s weight, pushing him back enough to get his hand down between them and rub himself through his trousers. Aaron watched him, half-breathless, unable to look away until he saw how Willie’s eyes closed when he came, how his teeth clenched and his chin jerked up, how he flushed deep red from his face all down his neck to the collar of his shirt.

Aaron eased off him slowly, carefully, and knelt on the mattress beside him, his hands moving automatically to tug the wet fabric away from himself where it wanted to cling. Willie blinked at him, raising his eyebrows.

“Okay?”

Aaron had to laugh, a short and breathless sound but real. “Yeah, that was… definitely okay.”

“I mean _are_ you okay.”

“Oh.” Aaron looked away, trying to think of how to answer. “I’m not panicking? I’m not, like, upset. So yeah. I think so.”

Willie smiled and reached out, curling his fingers loosely around Aaron’s wrist. “Good.”

“But we didn’t _do_ anything,” Aaron said firmly. “So we’re not done. I’m not fixed yet. That didn’t count.”

“It was sex. That counted as sex.”

“But not the _kind_ of sex.”

“We’ll get there when we get there. I’m not going to rush.” He rubbed Aaron’s wrist and then pressed his thumb carefully against the base of his palm. “I know you want to just get it over with.”

“And you don’t.”

“I don’t. For a lot of reasons. But the big one is that I think that would hurt you more.” Willie let go of him and shrugged. “And I’m not gonna do that.”

“Even if I ask you to.”

“Even then.”

Aaron looked away again, blinking against the hot, frustrated pressure behind his eyes. “So… what do we do, then?” Willie was quiet, and after a moment Aaron looked at him again. “Mitchie?”

“Yeah, kid.”

“What do we do now?”

Willie cleared his throat. “Well, you can go to your room, or you can stay here with me for a while, or… whatever you want to do.”

He didn’t really have to think about it. “I want to stay here.”

Some of the tension went out of Willie’s body. Aaron hadn’t really realized it was there until it eased. “Okay. Let’s see what’s on TV, eh? Just hang out for a while.”

“Yeah.” Aaron lay down next to him, carefully, keeping a handspan of space between them. “I’d like that.”

**

Willie’s alarm went off and woke them both up much earlier than Aaron expected. “Fuck,” he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his face. “What--why?”

“In case you crashed here and needed to get back to your own room in time to pack.” Willie groped for the phone and turned the alarm off. “I can plan ahead, sometimes.”

“You need to pack, too?”

“Yeah, but I’ll do that in, like, an hour, before I leave for the bus.” Willie pulled a pillow over his face. “Go away.”

“Thanks,” Aaron muttered. He stood up and winced; his boxer-briefs were dried to his skin and clingy, his shirt and pants looked like, well, like he’d slept in them, and he smelled. A shower _and_ packing when he got back to the room, and hoping Sasha wouldn’t wake up enough to question any of it.

He thought Willie had fallen back asleep already, but he spoke again as Aaron got to the door. “We’ll talk about it when we get home, eh?”

Aaron stopped and dug in his pocket for his key card. “I guess so?”

“I think we probably should.”

“Does this change everything?” He wished he hadn’t asked that as soon as it was said. It was too early for that.

Willie lifted the pillow and looked at him. “I hope not. Do you feel like it does?”

“I feel, like, barely awake.”

Willie studied him for a moment, then shook his head and put the pillow down again. “Me too. We’ll talk about it later.”

Aaron tried to think of something else to say, couldn’t, and let himself out in silence. Making his way back to his own room was easy—nobody else was in the hall yet—but it felt weird. Maybe this was a walk of shame. Shit. He really hoped Sasha was still asleep.

For once luck was on Aaron’s side, and he was. Aaron got directly into the shower, closing his eyes and letting the water pound against his face and chest. The sound didn’t bother him any more than usual; a low background unease, but nothing that he didn’t live with every day.

Being with Willie hadn’t made him worse. That was better than he’d feared, if not the _fixing_ he’d hoped for. He could live with that.

**

The talk didn’t happen, though, because when they got back to the house Megan waved her phone in Willie’s face, showing him a message from some friends of theirs who were in town on a whim and wanted to get dinner. “I told them we’d meet them at six,” she said. “And I got reservations for seven, so you can still be in bed at a decent hour, old man.”

“I’ll need a nap beforehand,” he said, grinning and kissing her forehead. “It’ll be great to see them, it’s been a long time.”

“I can’t wait,” she said. She was smiling so brightly, she almost looked like she was glowing, and Aaron couldn’t quite look away. It was always weird to be reminded that they had a whole life before they ever met him, and they would go back to it once he was gone. He fit into their lives now, but it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t, no matter what they told him. 

His face burned, and the back of his neck; he slipped away down the hall to his room and dumped his bag out on the floor. He touched his lips, remembering how it had felt to kiss Willie, and something ached deep in his chest. None of this was real. It was all just… passing through. He had to remember that.

He pulled his laptop out and checked Skype for Brendan or Claudia or Darien, somebody he could talk to who didn’t have anything to do with any of this, so he could get his mind off of it for a while.

Darien was the only one signed on. “Hey, little bro,” he said, grinning at the camera. “Good game last night! I watched it with the guys.”

“How much did you make off me?” Aaron asked, the knot in his chest immediately easing. Darien was maybe the only person in the world who got him all the way down to the bone. They were the same inside, after all. They came from the same place. 

Darien laughed. “They won’t bet on you anymore with me. They say I have insider knowledge and it’s not fair. Bunch of wusses.”

“They’re right, though. You know all my tricks.”

“No way.” Darien shook his head and shifted around in his chair, glancing at something away from the camera. “So when am I going to get to come visit you? You keep saying it but not giving me a day.”

“When do you have some time off classes?” Aaron tried to picture Darien being there, weaving in and out of his daily life. Some parts would be awesome. Some parts would just be… weird. Off-balance. But it would be good to see him, and it would give him something that was outside Megan and Willie, too. Maybe they could see how it felt.

Some part of him knew that that wasn’t a good way to think, but he was tired and being left out of things and he still kept remembering how it had felt to have Willie thrusting up against him, getting him off, _kissing_ him. He was all out of good intentions.

“I could come next week, actually,” Darien said. “If you can swing a last-minute ticket, moneybags.”

“I’m on a rookie contract—”

Darien giggled. “Fuck you, it’s still more money than I’ll ever see in a year.”

Aaron grinned and flipped off the camera. “Yeah, I’ll pay for it, but not first class, eh?”

“Asshole. Okay. Book me to come down on Monday and back on Saturday? And just send me the info once you’ve got it.”

“I will.” Aaron hesitated. “It’ll be really great. To see you. And hang out, and stuff.”

“Totally.” Darien grinned wider. “We better go to the beach. And the good bars where hot girls hang out.”

“It’s Florida, man. Hot girls are everywhere.”

“Good. Try to look shorter and uglier so I have a chance.”

Aaron laughed, then glanced at the door, as if Willie or Megan would appear and tell him to quiet down. They had never done that and there wasn’t any reason they would now, but he still felt… weird. Off-center. 

He heard Darien’s phone chirp on the other side of the Skype window. “Oh, shit. I gotta go,” Darien said, looking away from the camera. “My buddy’s here, we’re going downtown. Book me the ticket, okay? I’ll see you Monday. Bye, A.”

“Bye,” Aaron echoed, watching until the screen went black. He closed the laptop and went to the kitchen, glancing warily up the stairs toward Willie and Megan’s room. He could hear them talking, but not make out the words. He wondered if they were talking about him, which brought a hot rush of blood to his face and an unhappy twist to his stomach. Better not to think about it and just concentrate on putting together a snack.

He ate at the kitchen counter, looking out the window over the sink. It was a typically day here, sunny and bright and perfect. Maybe he should go down to the water later. Maybe that would be a good distraction while Willie and Meg were out.

“Hey, honey.”

He jumped at Meg’s voice, nearly dropping his sandwich into the sink. “Oh! Hey.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” She reached past him to take a glass from the sink. “Do you need anything else to eat or are you good?”

“I’m good. You don’t have to worry about feeding me all the time.”

“I’ve lived with Will long enough that it’s an instinct. See an athlete, feed them. Don’t stop as long as they’re conscious.” She took a pitcher from the fridge and filled her glass. “I’m not going to ask you any questions. You don’t have to look so nervous.”

His face heated again. “I’m not nervous.” She didn’t bother to answer, and after a moment of staring at his sandwich, he cleared his throat. “So my brother’s going to come down next week? I haven’t bought the ticket yet, but you said before it would be okay if he did, so…”

“Oh!” She put the pitcher away and turned to look at him. “Oh, that’s great! I would love to see Darien again.”

“We’ll probably be out of the house a lot. You know.”

“Doing young-people things. I do know.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I know I’m ancient and decrepit now, but once upon a time…”

“You are not. C’mon.” He dropped his sandwich crust into the sink and frowned at it. “You’re beautiful.”

“Are you talking to me or the sandwich?”

“You know I’m talking to you.” It came out sharper than he intended, and they both were silent for a moment.

She collected herself first, smiling slightly and picking up her glass. “Okay, well, just let me know when Darien will get here so I can buy extra groceries.”

“I will.” He ducked his head. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

“You could probably use a nap. I’m familiar with cranky athletes, too.” 

“Yeah.” He wasn’t tired enough to nap, but obviously it would be better for everyone if he stayed behind closed doors until they went out for the night. “Have fun with your friends.”

“I’ll bring you back some dessert,” she said.

“Not on the meal plan,” he said immediately.

She laughed, the sound trailing down the stairs as she headed for the bedroom. He forced back the sudden irrational impulse to follow her and went back to his room instead. He would buy Darien’s ticket and then watch something on the NHL Vault until he heard them leave. That way nothing else could twist around and get strange.

**

It was a busy week, so he and Willie didn’t have a chance to talk or hook up again before Darien arrived. Aaron picked him up at the airport and took him straight to a beachfront bar for lunch and fruity beach drinks, before they even went back to the house to drop his things off. Aaron wanted to welcome him to Florida _right_.

It was great having him there. They still had a brotherly shorthand, made up over years of practicing in the basement, navigating their parents’ expectations, and texting each other from camp/billet/tournament whenever either of them felt like they might not make it any further without losing their mind. Aaron knew it was weird for Darien that his younger brother was the special one and he had peaked and faded without cracking the big leagues. He also knew that Darien loved him. He would never use the first thing against his brother, and so the second thing would never change.

Darien threw his arm around Aaron’s shoulders as they walked from the bar to the truck. Aaron had only had one drink, while Darien had had a bunch, so Aaron steadied him as they walked. “I’m so glad I finally got down here, dude,” Darien said. “I can’t wait to see you doing your thing.”

“Just a couple of practices and one game,” Aaron said, digging his keys out of his pocket. “I wish this week looked a little more exciting.”

“I think it’s awesome.” Darien tightened his arm in a rough hug. “I promise I won’t embarrass you in front of the guys. I’ll be cool. Not like Mom and Dad.”

Aaron laughed and unlocked the truck. “Please don’t be like Mom and Dad, for real.”

“You think I’ll get to talk to Luongo at all? That would be kinda cool. Shoot the shit with him.” Darien made a face and climbed into passenger seat. “I mean, I’m not a goalie _anymore_ , but I bet he’d humor me, right?”

“Totally. He’s a nice guy. They all are.” Aaron drove them back to the house, navigating easily along the roads he knew by heart by now. It was kind of cool to be able to show that off to Darien by not showing off at all, just _doing_ it. “You’ll like Mitchie and Megan a lot. They’re awesome.”

“They’ve been putting up with you all this time.” Darien grinned at him. “Without coming up with an excuse to kick you out. So they must be pretty cool.”

“I’m great at billeting,” Aaron said. “I’ve never had any problems.”

“Yeah, I guess Brendan was the troublemaker and you were the good one, eh?”

“Pretty much.” Aaron steered quietly for a minute, remembering what it was like in Barrie, with Brendan loud and bright and calling attention to himself whenever he could, and Aaron feeling steady in the shadow of his personality, where nobody would press too much and he could pretend nothing hurt. It wasn’t like that on the ice, of course, but Aaron knew how to handle things on the ice. The world made sense there more than it ever did anywhere else.

He parked at the house and ushered Darien inside, showing him to the much smaller second guest room. “If it’s not comfortable, Meg said she’s been planning to replace this bed anyway and can get a new one in by tomorrow.”

“She definitely doesn’t have to do that. This is fine. I don’t need anything fancy.”

“I think she meant more like if you’re too tall for it, dude. If you literally don’t fit.”

Darien shrugged. “I can take it for a week. No problem.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and bounced a little experimentally. “I didn’t see another car in the driveway, they’re not home?”

“They went to look at trees. For landscaping. I think they wanted to give us, like, brother time.” Aaron rolled his eyes. “They’ll be back in time to make dinner. Meg’s an amazing cook. You’ll love it.”

Darien studied him for a minute, smiling. “You really like them, huh?”

Aaron froze for a moment, then remembered he could smile, as long as he didn’t blush. Darien didn’t know. Darien didn’t have any way to know. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. They’ve been so great to me.”

“Good. I was really hoping you’d have somebody to, like. Help you out.” 

“I’m not a baby, dude.”

“I know. But…” Darien shrugged. “You get so stressed out, you know? I just like knowing someone has your back when that happens.”

Aaron couldn’t think of anything to say to that. It must’ve just been the beach drinks talking. Darien didn’t know anything about what stressed Aaron out. He couldn’t. Fuck, keeping track of the secrets between them, the way there probably _wasn’t_ going to be a double meaning in everything they said, that was going to tire him out in a hurry.

**

Having Darien around was great. He understood that Aaron couldn’t keep him company all the time, that he had other things he had to attend to, and he was cool about it. It was so much less stressful than Aaron had worried it might be. He got a _little_ stressed, of course, mostly when Darien would stay at the house with Megan while Aaron and Willie went to a team thing, because… well, what if Megan didn’t like Darien? Or what if one of them said something that the other one thought was weird? What if Darien didn’t like _Megan_ , and said something mean, and Aaron had to figure out how to respond?

But none of that happened. Everybody got along great. Aaron even managed to stop worrying that something awful was around the corner for long enough to have a good time.

The last night that Darien was there, they went out again, to the same bar as the first day. This time Aaron let himself have a few more drinks, to celebrate and say goodbye. They ended up leaning on each other in one of the booths in the back of the bar, giggling over half-said jokes that neither of them could possibly have explained to anyone. The humor only existed between the two of them. In the blood.

“I’m so happy for you,” Darien said when they’d finally given up and asked for a round of water. He pounded on Aaron’s shoulder. “So fucking happy, dude.”

“Thanks.” Aaron punched him back. “I’m happy, too.”

“I know you are! You’re, like, happier than I’ve seen you in ages. Even in Barrie you weren’t this happy.”

Aaron gulped his water and shrugged, his brain neatly swerving away from thinking too hard about being happy in Barrie. “I feel like I really fit here, you know? It feels good. I feel good.”

“The Mitchells like you _so_ much, dude.” Darien put his head down on Aaron’s shoulder, and Aaron went still.

“I guess so.”

“No, for real! They do. They like you so much, and they, like, they want you to be happy so bad. Megan asked me like three times if there was anything else they could do for you. Anything you like that she could buy for the house that you maybe didn’t mention.”

Aaron knew his face was bright red. Luckily the bar was pretty dark. “That’s… she didn’t have to do that. I hope you didn’t tell her stuff.”

“No, I knew you’d be all weird about it.” Darien head-butted him affectionately and sat up, reaching for his water. “And Willie, he was all, like, ‘Your brother is such a great guy, really a one in a million kid, it’s great to watch him grow as a player and a person.’ And I know that sounds weird, and it kind of was, but not really? Because I could tell he really _meant_ it. They love your ass, Aaron.” He took an enthusiastic drink. “Your big ol’ butt.”

“Shut up about my butt,” Aaron muttered, his head spinning. He knew Willie and Megan liked him, but—but they _liked_ him, enough to talk to Darien about him, enough to tell Darien nice things about him. What did that _mean_? What should he do with that? He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know it. It had to change things.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Darien said. “School’s gonna suck extra after this.”

The moment was over, and Aaron let himself get drawn back into the super-important parts of being drunk and failing to hook up with girls in the bar and saying goodbye. But in the back of his head he didn’t stop thinking about how this changed things.

**

Megan drove Darien to the airport the next morning, because Willie and Aaron had to report for an early meeting before getting on a bus to Tampa Bay. “God bless the saturated South Florida hockey market,” Willie said as the team filed onto the bus and sorted themselves into their usual seating arrangements. “What would we do without a cross-state rival.”

“It doesn’t count as a rivalry if nobody cares,” Lu said. “Just a tip for future reference, Mitchie.”

“I always bow to your superior knowledge, Bobby. You’re the wise old man around here.”

“You’re older than me, asshole.”

Aaron settled in next to Sasha and closed his eyes, letting the familiar bickering fade out to background noise. He was glad for the trip to Tampa, personally; it was an away game to keep him busy all day, but they would get back to Sunrise that night and sleep at home. That was pretty important for something he wanted to do.

_Wanted_ was maybe the wrong word. He was too nervous about it to totally say he wanted it. But he was going to do it, it was going to happen, and if everything went correctly, once it was over things were going to be really good.

Of course, if everything didn’t go correctly, once it was over things were going to be totally fucking ruined. But he still had to try.

They won the game on a last-minute goal, which fucking _rocked_. It was almost as good as a win at home. The locker room was loud and rowdy afterward, and once the press left it just got louder.

Aaron used the chaos to join Willie at his stall and lean in to talk right into his ear. “Hey, when we get back tonight…”

Willie glanced at him, hitching his towel around his waist and fumbling around for his clean clothes. Water was dripping from his hair, running down his neck and chest, distracting enough that Aaron lost the rest of his sentence.

“Everything okay?” Willie asked finally. “Something we need to talk about when we get back?”

“No.” Aaron blinked rapidly and focused on Willie’s face instead. “Everything’s fine. Just, uh. When we get back, do you think maybe… I mean, you and me, I know we don’t want to wake Meg up so maybe you could come by my room or…”

“Oh.” Willie dropped the boxer shorts he’d finally dug out of his bag, and nearly dropped his towel. “Jesus. I didn’t expect to hear that here in the middle of everybody.”

“Sorry.” Aaron took a step back. “Never mind. I didn’t think anybody was—”

“It’s okay.” Willie recovered his shorts and nodded, not looking directly at Aaron. “Yeah. We can do that. I’ll give her a call and tell her not to wait up.”

“She will anyway. She doesn’t sleep well when you’re not there.” 

Willie’s face softened, his eyes going all warm. Aaron’s chest ached a little. Fuck, what would it take to make someone look like that when they thought about him? “She’ll be dozing, and then fall asleep for real when she hears the front door close and us come in. It’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” Aaron squared his shoulders and nodded, glancing around again. Nobody was paying any attention to them, but the vortex at the center of the room’s energy could swing back their way at any minute. Better to wrap things up. “That’s the plan, then.”

“Should I be nervous that you’re planning?” 

Willie was teasing, Aaron knew, but he couldn’t help being serious in reply. “I don’t think so. Just… just trust me, okay?”

Willie gave him a startled look that quickly turned serious, but Kuli was bawling Aaron’s name from the far end of the room and the vortex had definitely shifted, so he turned away.

**

They dropped their gear in the entryway and Aaron did his best to take charge, grabbing Willie’s hand and leading him through the living room and down the hall to the guest room. He had put clean sheets on the bed that morning, just in case everything went right, and made sure there was a path from the door to the bed with nothing to trip over. He wasn’t great at seduction, but those seemed like good basics.

Willie laughed, low and rumbling, as Aaron tugged him toward the bed. “Damn, you’re all fired up.”

“Yeah.” Aaron let go of his hand and hesitated. “I am. I just… I really want to…” He stepped back and started unbuttoning his shirt, his fingers suddenly clumsy on the buttons. 

“You want some help with that?” Willie didn’t wait for an answer, just stepped forward and brushed Aaron’s hands away. He undid the buttons slowly and carefully, then guided the shirt off Aaron’s shoulders and dropped it to the floor.

“You want help with yours?” Aaron asked, pulling his undershirt off and tossing it on top of the button-down. Part of him wanted to pick the clothes up and put them away properly; the rest of him knew that would be stalling. And he wasn’t going to do that. He was going to keep moving forward.

“I got it.” Willie took his own shirt and undershirt off much more quickly, then undid his pants and slipped them off, too, all casual about it, like it didn’t even matter. Aaron’s fingers didn’t want to work that button and or the zipper properly, either. It took him a minute, and when he looked up again, Willie had discarded his briefs and was standing there naked.

Looking at him made Aaron’s throat go dry. He just… he _wanted_ , so much, it was sweet and heady and terrifying. Too many feelings going through him at once.

He pressed the heel of his hand against his dick for a moment and then stripped his boxer-briefs off. Moving forward. Going to do this.

Willie was watching him closely. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely.” Aaron sat down on the bed. “Uh, like we did last time, right? Kissing?”

“Whatever you want.” Willie sat down next to him and reached out, brushing Aaron’s hair back with a light, careful touch. “Kissing was pretty good, eh?”

“Yeah.” Aaron licked his lips and nodded. “It was really good.”

“Okay.” Willie moved his hand down to cup Aaron’s chin and kissed him, long and slow and good. Aaron felt some of the tension go out of his body, his shoulder sagging in relief. This _was_ as good as he remembered it. He hadn’t made that up. It wasn’t scary to kiss Willie; it was okay.

After a few minutes Willie shifted toward him and moved his hands to Aaron’s shoulders, guiding him down to the bed. They lay on their sides, face to face, which seemed odd to Aaron at first until he realized that Willie had done that to keep from pinning him down. Being pinned down wasn’t something Aaron was afraid of; it wasn’t something he’d really thought about much at all. But Willie thought of it and protected him just in case. Willie must really _like_ him, like Darien said. He cared about him.

And Aaron desperately, desperately needed to show how much that meant to him.

He broke the kiss, smiling quickly to show nothing was wrong. “I wanna try something?”

“Sure.” Willie smiled, too. “Anything you want.”

“Turn over on your back?” Willie did, stretching out his legs a little, enough that his knees popped and Aaron winced automatically. 

“Don’t let that distract you,” Willie said. “Now would be a hell of a time for you to realize I’m a beat-up old man.”

“Whatever.” Aaron sat up on his knees and looked at Willie for a moment, letting his eyes drift down from his face, over his chest and torso, down to his dick curved hard and red against his belly. The complicated mix of fear and want rushed through Aaron again, hotter than blood and leaving him a little dizzy. He wanted to do this, though. This was the right thing to do, the right thing to move forward, to fix himself.

He moved down the bed until he was beside Willie’s hips, then lowered his head and carefully, tentatively licked Willie’s cock.

Willie made a startled sound, a sharp indrawn breath. “Aaron, what—”

“I want to.” Aaron didn’t look up, keeping his gaze on the thick flesh, so close to his eyes. “I want to try, okay?”

“You sure?” Willie’s voice was so rough, and his dick _twitched_ , Jesus. Aaron couldn’t believe it. “You’ll stop if you don’t like it?”

“Yeah.” Aaron nodded quickly and pushed his hair off of his forehead, dragging back the sweat that had gathered at the roots. “Can you like… move your legs, you know, so I can…”

Willie spread his legs and Aaron moved to kneel between them, then stopped as Willie touched his shoulder.

“I mean it,” Willie said, looking at him intently. “If you don’t like it, I want you to stop, okay? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, or anything you don’t like. Okay?”

Aaron nodded, finally meeting Willie’s eyes again. “Okay. Deal. I’ll stop if I… but I don’t think it’ll be, um, a problem.”

Willie rubbed his thumb in slow arcs over Aaron’s shoulder. “They didn’t make you….”

Images flashed through Aaron’s head, blurry and either half-forgotten or never really remembered at all. “I want to do this,” he said, and before Willie could point out that it wasn’t really an answer, he ducked his head again and took him in his mouth.

It felt bigger in his mouth than he expected, and he immediately gagged, pulling back so just the head was in his mouth. He stayed like that for a moment, getting used to the feel of it, how _hot_ it was, the salt-sour taste at the slit. Then he poked at it with his tongue, not quite licking, until Willie gave a soft groan and he remembered that oh, yes, licking was better. Licking, sucking, moving his head up and down, everything he’d ever liked with girls, he should do that now, too. He should make sure that Willie felt good, and that Willie knew how much Aaron liked him, cared about him, wanted him to be happy.

He wasn’t deluded enough to think he was as good at sucking dick as he was at defense; he hadn’t been practicing _this_ for most of his life, after all, or even any longer than right now at this exact moment. It probably wasn’t any good at all. But Willie was making all of the right noises, and moving the right ways, and he kept saying things like _Jesus, Aaron_ and _You’re so good_ , and all of that was more than enough to make Aaron feel warm and tingly all over. He felt as good as Willie said he was. That meant, for sure, that this was _right_.

“Aaron,” Willie said, hot and urgent, “I’m gonna come, stop, okay, stop.”

Aaron pulled off and looked up at him, puzzled, his lips feeling fat and tingly and his mouth weird and empty. “What should I—”

He didn’t have to do anything, though; Willie wrapped his hand around himself and stroked a few times until he came all in a mess over his belly. Aaron took a breath, torn between wanting to say something stupid like _I was going to do that_ and something like _oh my god, yes, I want to make you feel like that so many times_.

Instead he just sat there, breathing hard and rubbing his own dick roughly, not to get himself off but with pressure to try to hold himself back and make the moment last longer. When it was over Willie might leave, and he didn’t want that. Not yet.

“C’mere,” Willie said. “Let me take care of you.”

Aaron didn’t expect his own reaction. “No.”

“What?”

“I don’t… I don’t want to.” Aaron cleared his throat and fumbled for words to go with the sudden conviction racing through him. He knew what he wanted, but he couldn’t explain _why_. “Let me… I’ll jerk off and you watch, okay, you tell me if you like it? If it looks good?”

Willie looked kind of lost. “You don’t want me to touch you? Is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong. Just, I… I want…” He groaned in frustration. “I want you to _see_ me.”

Willie was silent for a minute, looking at him and clearly not understanding at all, and Aaron’s face got hotter and hotter as his stomach twisted painfully. Another minute of this horrible silence and it wasn’t going to matter, because his hard-on would be gone anyway.

“Okay,” Willie said finally, and Aaron breathed again. “Okay, yeah, if that’s what you want. Anything you want, right? Show me how… how good you are.”

Aaron almost sobbed in relief, shifting his hand from pressing on his dick to stroking it properly. He closed his eyes, but he knew Willie was still watching him. “Talk,” Aaron said, moving his hand faster. “Please, I really want that part, talk to me.”

“You’re gorgeous.” Aaron thought he could tell just from his voice that he really meant it. “I love looking at you no matter what you’re doing, you know that? On the ice, sitting around, on the beach, whatever. But this… like this… fuck, kid, I’m not romantic. But you’re so damn good to look at. Not just pretty but _hot_.”

“I’m doing good? You like watching me?”

“I love it. Love seeing you all turned on and hard and knowing it’s because you’re with me.”

That made Aaron shudder, and he tried to catch himself and hold back from the edge, but he’d already held back enough tonight. He spilled over his hand, half of it getting away from him and onto the sheets. “Aw, fuck.”

Willie’s hands caught him loosely around both of his wrists, and Aaron opened his eyes, startled. “It’s okay,” Willie said. “I was going to go crazy if I had to wait longer without touching you.”

Aaron gave a soft huff of breath. “I made a mess.”

“I don’t care.” Willie lay back again and pulled Aaron along with him, letting him settle against his chest. “Don’t ever worry about making a mess with me.”

Aaron knew he should offer to get towels, and water. He should clean up and tell Willie it was okay if he went upstairs to sleep in his own bed, with his wife. But he didn’t want to.

And Willie didn’t seem to mind. He wrapped his arms around Aaron, building this warm, safe space around him that Aaron didn’t know how to fit into, but never wanted to leave.

“Relax,” Willie said quietly. “Go to sleep. I’ve got you.”

Aaron’s body gave up some of its tension, just because his captain said so. It wasn’t even close to all of it, but it was enough that he fell asleep.

**

For the next two weeks he felt really good, like he had finally figured out something that _worked_. It was fixing him. He and Willie could be together, making out and rubbing against each other, and when things got heated Aaron would get him off with his mouth or his hands, and then when Willie reached for him, he pulled back and said he didn’t want that, but Willie could watch him. It was working. 

He lay with his head on Willie’s chest in a hotel room in San Jose, breathing in the mingled sweat-soap-come smell of Willie’s skin. Willie’s fingers wandered slowly through his hair, and Aaron’s eyes drooped closed, his whole body really relaxed for once. Letting go.

“You okay?” Willie asked softly, his voice vibrating in his chest and running through Aaron’s bones. Aaron nodded, his eyes still closed.

“’m good. Really good.”

“Why don’t you want me to touch you?”

Aaron’s breath hitched and the tension crawled back into his body. “You’re touching me right now.”

“You know what I mean.” Willie didn’t sound angry, Aaron realized; he sounded… uncertain. Confused. “Why don’t you want me to get you off?”

“I like doing it for you.” 

Willie took a deep breath. Aaron knew he should sit up and pull away, but Willie’s fingers were still in his hair, and he didn’t _want_ to. He wanted to be held close, and be warm and safe, and to just stop talking about it. If they didn’t talk about it, everything could stay fine.

“I feel like I’m using you,” Willie said. “And it’s a really shitty feeling, and it scares me.”

“Scares you?”

“I think I’m a pretty good guy. I do my best not to hurt people. But if I’m using you, then… that’s hurting you, and that’s not okay, and it scares me that I might be that guy without knowing it.”

“You’re not using me.” Aaron looked up at him, careful not to dislodge Willie’s hand from his head. “You’re not. I swear. This is how I want it, right now.”

Willie’s hand moved again, a tentative caress that unknotted a tiny bit of the fear in Aaron’s chest. “Right now? So… it might change?”

“Maybe? I don’t know for sure. But… I don’t know, I feel like right now this is fixing me.”

“You don’t need to be fixed.” Willie touched Aaron’s jaw with his other hand, tracing over his lips. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know you think that.”

“I mean it.”

Aaron had to look down in order to say the next thing, but he meant it, too. “I like it a lot that you think that. It makes me feel… better.”

“I can say it whenever you want.”

“I know it even when you don’t say it.” Aaron closed his eyes again. “Just, please, let me do it this way.”

“Okay.” Willie’s body relaxed underneath him, and Aaron took a deep breath, trying to find his way back to calm. “Okay, yeah. For now. If it’s helping.”

“It is.”

“And you’ll tell me if you feel like I’m using you?”

“You’re not.”

“But you’ll tell me.”

Aaron sighed. “Yeah, okay, fine. And I’ll tell you if I wake up with superpowers, too.”

“Smartass.” Willie tugged his hair a little, then smoothed it down. “And you’ll tell me when… if… you’re ready to let me touch you.”

Aaron closed his eyes tighter. “Yeah. I will.”

“Because I really, really want to make you come. I want to make you let go.”

Heat twisted in Aaron’s stomach, eagerness and fear all mixed together tightly enough that he couldn’t form an answer. He pressed a kiss to Willie’s chest instead, hoping it said something.

**

They had a game at home the next night, followed by two days off, with instructions to attend optional skate on one and take the other as a rest day. Aaron went to the first day’s skate, and figured he’d probably come to the second one, too, just in case they didn’t mean it about a rest day. If they did they’d send him home, and at least they’d know he _wanted_ to practice. He’d get dedication points.

Willie seemed to have the same plan, which surprised Aaron; Willie hadn’t said anything to him, or been downstairs when he got ready to leave, so he’d figured Willie was taking a rest day. “Sorry,” he said, stopping by Willie’s stall in the locker room. “I would’ve waited and drove in with you.”

Willie smiled at him, but there was something off about it. “It’s fine. I wasn’t sure if I was going to come in or not until the last minute. Getting in early is always good, shows them you’re dedicated.”

Aaron nodded, watching him closely and trying to figure out what was wrong. This definitely wasn’t… normal.

“I’ll see you on the ice,” Willie said, turning away from him. “Go on, get out there and warm up.”

Aaron did as he was told, but he kept an eye on Willie, all through the skate, and he didn’t feel any better by the end of things. Nothing was obviously wrong, but Willie was just half a stride off, or something, the whole time. Not operating at full power. It was just an optional skate, though, so maybe that was on purpose, to save energy and not risk hurting anything out here. Maybe Aaron shouldn’t be worrying about this at all.

It kept bugging him, though, all the way through the locker room and out to the parking lot, where he saw that Willie’s car was already gone. He must’ve rushed out without talking to anybody. That was _weird_.

Aaron checked his phone and climbed into his truck, frowning to himself. He was supposed to meet Kuli and Sasha for lunch, and he would, but maybe he would cut it short, a little, and get back to the house to make sure everything was okay.

It was hard to cut things short with the guys, though; they always had a lot to say and wanted to order one more thing or go check out a new sport store, or something, and Aaron hated telling them no. He didn’t want to end up as the standoffish weirdo who thought he was better than everyone else again. That reputation never did any good in anyone’s life. It was mid-afternoon before he got back to the house, where Megan was standing out front with Pinot on a leash, watching the dog inspect the landscaping.

“Hey,” Aaron called, shoving his keys in his pocket. “You want me to take him?”

“No, we’re fine.” She smiled at him, and that didn’t look right, either. It was tight around the edges.

“Everything okay?” Aaron asked, trying to swallow down the immediate fear that confusion and helplessness kicked off in his guts. This probably was none of his business. It almost definitely had nothing to do with him.

“Yeah, of course. Everything’s fine.”

Aaron bit his lip and decided to just ask. “Is Mitchie okay? He was a little off at practice.”

Megan’s jaw tightened, but she smiled again. “Yeah. He’s taking a nap. You should do that, too. Get your beauty rest.”

“I’m not tired. I’m gonna go in, though. I’ll help you with dinner tonight?”

Her smile got a little more real. “Definitely. I love your help.”

Okay. That was… that was a little less scary. Not good, but not as bad. “Cool. Come find me whenever.”

He went inside and back to his room, where he really didn’t have anything to do if he couldn’t get himself to nap. He ended up listening to music and halfheartedly flipping through some books about financial management that Bobby had sent him so he could “think about his future.” He didn’t _want_ to think about his future. It was scary.

Someone tapped on his door and he almost fell off the bed in relief. “Meg?”

“Yeah. Come help me?”

She still didn’t look right when he opened the door. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Come on, I’m trying a new recipe, I need assistance.”

There wasn’t room for them to walk together down the hall, so he fell in behind her. “Something’s wrong.”

She sighed and brushed her hair back behind her ears. “Will isn’t feeling well.”

“Oh.” That would explain why he didn’t look right at practice. “Food poisoning or something?”

“No, I don’t think so. Just kind of off.”

“That sucks. I hope it’s not contagious. We could take out the whole locker room, like those teams that got mumps.”

She laughed. “Let’s not even think about mumps.” She nodded at the printouts lying on the kitchen counter. “One for you, one for me.”

“I’ll start the mise en place,” he said seriously, and she laughed again, some of the tightness going out of her expression.

“Thank you,” she said, going to the refrigerator to gather ingredients. Aaron collected the spices, salt, olive oil, got them all arranged, and started chopping vegetables as she placed them by his cutting board. Helping Meg cook was a good part of his routine. He liked how he could focus on it and end up with a good end product more predictably than on the ice.

“How are you and Will doing?” she asked after a while. He looked up sharply, but she wasn’t looking at him, focusing instead on cutting strips of meat.

“Good, I think,” he said after a moment. “Doesn’t he tell you how we’re doing?”

“He tells me what he thinks. That doesn’t automatically match what you think, you know?” She turned away and rinsed her hands at the sink. 

“I think it’s good,” he said, a little more confidently. “I think it’s fixing me. Not as fast as I want, but… but I think it’s working.”

“You’re not broken, Aaron.”

“He keeps saying that, too, but I _am_. I know. I can feel it, and I want to fix it.”

She shook her head, leaning against the counter and looking at him with serious eyes. “Stop for a minute and listen to me, okay? Put the knife down and just… just listen.”

He bit back a sigh and did as he was told, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “What?”

“The reason we keep saying you’re not broken is because… because that’s so final, Aaron. Something that’s broken, you can fix it, but the break is always there, right? We want… we’re seeing it as wounded, not broken. Instead of fixing, we’re seeing it as healing. Healing still leaves a scar and maybe it makes you different, but it’s your own growth filling the wound in, not… not somebody coming in with glue or something and doing it _for_ you. It’s you. Healing comes from you.”

He looked down at the floor, wishing he knew how to say anything that would fit here, anything that could express how it _felt_ to have to try to put these things into words when they were things he didn’t even want to think about. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“You can tell us to fuck off. If broken is how you want to express it, we don’t have any right to tell you different. But… that’s where we’re coming from. If that makes sense?”

“It does. I guess. I need to think about it.” He cleared his throat and reached for the knife again. “I’m gonna finish this.”

She nodded and went back to her own station, and they finished prepping dinner in silence. Once it was cooking he went to the living room and she went upstairs. He turned the TV on, then muted it, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. He could hear them talking upstairs, not clearly enough to make out the words, but the back-and-forth thrum of conversation.

This was all so strange, and it _ached_ sometimes. But he wanted it.

**

Willie didn’t look right at dinner, either. He was quiet and lethargic, barely talking or looking up from his plate. Aaron felt like he was a gerbil trapped on a wheel or something, anxiety racing around in his chest. Caring about people meant _worrying_ about them. Fuck.

After they ate, Willie headed for the stairs, muttering something about going back to bed. Aaron caught him at the landing, taking his hand and pulling him clumsily back for a kiss.

Willie kissed him back, lingering against his mouth, then broke away with a slight headshake. “Not tonight, rookie. I don’t quite feel up to it.”

“I know. I wasn’t…” Aaron dropped his hand and stepped back. “I hope you feel better. I just wanted to, um. Tell you that.”

“Oh.” Willie looked at him for a minute. “Right, sorry. I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not. You don’t feel good. That’s okay.”

“I’ll see you in the morning?”

Aaron nodded. “I’ll be here, unless I go to skate.”

Willie rolled his eyes and started up the stairs. “They said take a rest day, Aaron. Take a rest day.”

“I’d rather _work_.”

“I know you would. I know. But do what you’re told.”

Aaron watched him vanish upstairs and put his hand over his stomach, trying to press back the worry. It didn’t really work. 

**

In the morning he got up, got dressed for the skate, and went to the kitchen. Megan was there, standing on her tiptoes to get something out of a cupboard over the refrigerator.

“I got it,” he said, reaching over her head easily. “The wooden box?”

“Yes.” She settled down on her feet and made a face. “I hate all of you tall people.”

“Not really, though.” He got it down and handed it to her. “What is it?”

She ignored the question, taking the box over to the sink. “You’re going to the optional skate? I thought you weren’t supposed to do both.”

“I figured I’d at least show up and see what happens.” His stomach hurt again. “Meg? What’s going on?”

She made a weird sound, that maybe started as a laugh but definitely wasn’t one in the end. “Nothing you need to worry about. Go ahead and go to practice.”

“Megan, _please_.”

She looked up, studying his face for a moment, then sighed and opened the box. “Willie’s been playing hockey for twenty years, you know?”

“Longer than that.”

“Professional hockey for twenty years.” She took a few plastic baggies out of the box, a little grinder, then something it took him a minute to realize was a vaporizer. “And he’s a defenseman, so he’s broken a lot of bones and taken a lot of hits. Had some concussions. Fractured some vertebrae. It’s hard on the body.” She slammed the box closed. “And some days the weather changes or the air pressure or something, who really knows what the fuck, and all of those old injuries start to hurt at once.”

“Oh.” Aaron’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Oh, he’s just sore?”

The relief didn’t last past the look she gave him, sharp and furious and full of fear. “No, he is not _sore_. He’s in so much pain he can’t get out of bed, partly because yesterday he jacked himself full of oxy to make it to the skate so that he _could_ take today off to spend in bed.” She opened one of the bags and shook some of the contents out on her cutting board, measuring out the dried leaves and putting them in the grinder. “So today we’ll do it the other way, and see if maybe he can relax enough to get some rest, and tomorrow he’ll take pills again to get through the practice, and his liver will do whatever it’s going to do, and why do I want my husband to be able to function, anyway, what am I, selfish?”

“Meg…”

“If you tell me that he loves hockey, Aaron, I swear, I will hit you with a chair.” She put everything down and braced her hands on the edge of the counter, taking a breath. “I know that he loves hockey, and I know that he loves _me_ , you don’t have to tell me that part either. That doesn’t help me when he’s hurting this much and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Her pain and fear were like punches, hitting him in the chest and the gut. “I’m sorry.”

“This is what you have to look forward to in twenty years, you know. Have fun with it. Get your concussions in, break your bones, fuck up every part of your body. If you’re lucky you’ll get traded to LA and get a medical card so you can get the good shit.” She loaded the vaporizer and started cleaning up the rest. “You’ll get to hold your breath every time the CBA’s renegotiated hoping the PA will still have enough sense to hold the line on not testing for pot regularly and making the testing limit for requiring reporting really, really fucking high. It’s fun. You’ll have a great time. It’s as great as winning the Cup, it really is.”

“Megan.” He crossed over to her, taking the vaporizer out of her hand and putting it on the counter. “Stop.”

“I’m fine. I’m fine.”

He wrapped his arms around her, not too tight, so careful to make sure she could pull away if she wanted to. She gasped once, then hugged him back, holding on with desperation. 

“I’m sorry,” he said against her hair. “I’m really sorry it’s so hard.”

“It’s not fair. It isn’t fair.” She wasn’t quite crying, but it was close. He rubbed her back awkwardly, wishing he knew what to say, hoping this was enough. 

“This isn’t your problem,” she said after a moment. He could feel her trying to pull herself together, and how it wasn’t quite working, so he didn’t let go. “I shouldn’t bother you with this.”

“I want to help,” he said, hoping she could hear how much he meant it. “I… you guys are so good to me, and I love you, and I want to help.”

“You do help.” She rested her forehead against his shoulder, giving up on trying to pull away. “Just you being here, it helps so much. We both… I hope you know how much we both adore you.”

“I’ll do anything I can to help. Anything.”

She laughed a little, and there were the tears, he could hear them, and feel them soaking through his shirt. “Thank you, honey. That means a lot. Shit. I’m getting you all wet.”

“It’s okay,” he said, rubbing her back again. “It’s really okay. I don’t mind.”

“You… you better get to practice, if you’re going.”

“I’m not. I’m gonna stay and help, okay? Hang out with you guys. Be here if you need me.”

She shook her head. “He won’t want you to see him like this. In pain. It’ll mess up his captain image.”

“I don’t care.” He was a little surprised at how much he didn’t care. “He’s there for me, he’s fixing… he _helps_ me, I can be here for him too. I’m going to be.”

She looked up at him for a moment, blinking her tears away, then nodded. “Okay.” She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him, dry and closed-lipped. “Thank you, Aaron.”

“Yeah.” He knew it was time to let her go, and he stepped back, looking at the counter again. “You take that up to him and I’ll come up in like ten minutes? Cool?”

“He’ll probably still growl at you.”

Aaron shrugged. “I can take it.”

“Of course you can.” She patted his chest and moved away, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, and he wondered for a minute how it was possible to love people this much, how anyone could stand having love in their chest like this and not just break down onto the floor.

**

The bedroom door was ajar, so he let himself in, hesitating just inside. Megan was sitting cross-legged beside Willie, saying something softly that cut off when she saw Aaron. 

“Hey,” Aaron said, shoving his hands into the waistband of his sweats. “Um.”

Willie’s face was set with pain, the vaporizer resting on his chest. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, totally. I know.” Aaron nodded and shuffled over to the foot of the bed. “Just wanted to come hang out.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“He wants to,” Megan said. “Stop, Will.”

Willie sighed and picked up the vaporizer, taking a slow puff. “Was that four or five?”

“Four,” Megan said, reaching for it. “That’s enough.”

“Yeah. I can already…” He gestured vaguely. “It’s better.”

“That’s the idea.” She smiled, brittle and uncertain. Aaron hated it. “Just relax now.”

Willie closed his eyes. “See, kid, unlike the stuff that’s just for fun, the medical stuff you only get a little bit at a time.”

“And you whine about it,” Megan said. “Because you are a child trapped in the body of a thirty-eight-year-old man.”

Aaron wasn’t really sure if this conversation was meant to include him. “Do you have the just for fun stuff too?”

They both stared at him for a moment, then started to giggle. “The fun stuff’s in the sock drawer,” Megan said. “That’s why we keep this in the kitchen, so there aren’t any mix-ups.”

Aaron stuck his lower lip out. “You guys have been holding out on me. Mean.”

“I don’t want Bobby Orr knifing me in my sleep,” Willie said, still giggling. “You’re his golden boy, I’m not gonna be the one who corrupts you.”

“I don’t tell Bobby _everything_.” Aaron hesitated another moment, then nodded at the bed. “Can I sit?”

“Sure.” Willie patted the space next to him, on the opposite side from Megan.

“Don’t bump him,” Megan warned.

“I’m fine, babe. I’m not an invalid.”

“I had to bring you a cup to pee in this morning.”

Willie sighed. “So much for my dignity. Can you pretend you didn’t hear that, Aaron?”

“I’ve peed in a cup before.” Aaron sat down carefully, like he was in a chair at first, but that meant his back was to them and he’d have to crane his neck around the whole time, and he was too big to curl up like Megan was, so—he swung his legs up onto the mattress and sat back against the headboard, half-lying next to Willie. “Usually with a hangover, though.”

“This sucks more than a hangover. Unfortunately.”

“So… so is it your knees, or your head, or what?”

Willie made a face. “I don’t really—I guess you should know about this part, too, huh?”

“Yes,” Megan said. “He should know all of it. All of them should.”

“It wouldn’t change their minds, Meg. You know that.”

“Still. They should know.”

“Right.” Willie looked up at the ceiling, squinting at something Aaron couldn’t see. “It’s not just the knees, not just the head, it’s the whole package. Everything that’s ever been broken or banged up bad. I don’t know what brings it on, just sometimes, something changes and I swear every place I’ve ever even had a bruise swells up at once. Maybe not quite that far. But that’s what it feels like.”

“So, like…” Aaron was trying to sort this out in his head, but it was too big, like trying to make sense of the numbers describing the ocean, or space, or Canada. “On a normal day it doesn’t hurt, and then some days _everything_ hurts?”

Willie laughed a little. “On a normal day everything hurts, but only a little bit. Or a moderate bit. I’m used to it. On a rough day everything hurts a lot. And on a bad day like today, everything hurts more than I can take.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Willie sighed. “Not much you can do about it, though.” 

Megan looked like she wanted to say something, but instead she picked the remote up off the bedside table and started scrolling through channels.

“You look better now than just when I came in,” Aaron said after a moment. “More relaxed.”

“Yeah, it works pretty fast. I’m still not gonna get up and go out on the boat or anything, but…” Willie shrugged. “It’s better.”

“NASCAR?” Megan asked. She was holding the remote really tightly. Aaron kind of wanted to take it away from her before she broke it.

“Fuck, no.” Willie squinted at the screen. “Do we still get that channel that’s like all nature documentaries? Have you ever watched documentaries while you’re stoned, kid? It’s amazing. Feels like the whole universe makes sense.”

Megan actually smiled at that, and Aaron felt a little better. “No, I haven’t.”

“You should try it sometime.” Willie reached over and tugged at Megan’s arm. “Lie down, babe.”

“I will. Just a second.” She found the channel she wanted and clicked. It was in the middle of one already, something about space. The voice-over was talking about the Orion Nebula. Aaron didn’t really know what that was, but apparently he was going to learn about it.

Megan set the remote on Willie’s chest and stretched out on his other side. “Tell me if you need anything,” she said, her voice soft and so careful. It kind of made Aaron’s chest ache, to hear her.

“I’m good.” Willie rested his head against hers for a moment, then settled back against the pillows again. “You comfortable, kid?”

“Yeah.” Aaron shifted a little closer, until from his shoulder to his hip was pressed in a warm line against Willie. Not too much, he didn’t want to hurt him even by accident, but—touching. Touching him felt good.

He looked over Willie’s head at Megan, who was rubbing under her eyes with one hand, either crying or trying not to cry.

“The universe is unthinkably vast,” the voice-over murmured. “Bigger than any of us can imagine.”

Thinking about that made Aaron’s stomach flop over. The images on the screen were pretty, though; space clouds in red and purple and blue, stars showing through them fuzzy and soft, then getting sharp and clear when the view changed to a different perspective. All of that was out there, somewhere, and the three of them were down here in a bedroom in Florida.

Willie’s breathing slowed and evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep. Aaron glanced over him at Megan again; she looked better, a little bit, her face calm, her eyes on the screen.

He didn’t really think about it, just moved on instinct, freeing his arm from between his body and Willie’s and reaching across Willie’s chest to touch Megan’s arm. She glanced up, startled, then furrowed her brow and whispered, “You need something?”

He shook his head and tugged at her arm a little, just enough that she lifted it and he could find her hand. He took hold of it carefully, folding their fingers around each other instead of threading them together, and rested them on Willie’s torso, just below his sternum. He could feel the thump of Willie’s heart, and the slow rise and fall of his breathing. He could feel Megan’s hand warm and small in his, and the throb of her pulse in her fingers.

She smiled at him, her eyes bright with tears again, but he knew this time they were better ones. “Thanks, honey,” she whispered. “You help so much.”

He squeezed her hand and looked back at the screen, watching a moon spin slowly around some faraway planet. This felt good, being right here, doing something for the people he loved. It felt so good it had to mean something.

Maybe this was what healing felt like.

**

An idea started nagging at him, just in the back of his mind at first but getting stronger by the day until he had to admit it was something he needed to do. It wasn’t even a _difficult_ thing. It just would be dragging a lot of stuff into the light that he was really okay with leaving in the dark. But it didn’t feel like that was the right thing to do anymore.

He texted Brendan from the parking lot before he left practice. _hey can u be on skype later? Maybe like 6?_

He got an answer when he was halfway back to the house. _sure no problem everything ok?_

_yeah just want to catch up_. Which was true, mostly. He did want to catch up. He just also wanted to ask him something, once the catching up was over.

He helped Megan get dinner set up early, then went back to his room and set up his laptop, squinting at the screen until Brendan logged on. “Hey,” he said when the chat connected, waving at his webcam. “You cut your hair, dude!”

“I did!” Brendan grinned at him and for a minute homesickness made Aaron’s throat clench. Not for Barrie, but for _Brendan_ , in particular, for the half-brothers relationship they’d put together there and promised never to let die away. Aaron pinched himself on the thigh for not working hard enough to stay in touch. He would do better.

“So what’s going on down there?” Brendan asked, leaning closer to the camera. “You’ve had some pretty good games, eh?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m doing okay. Always gotta do better, though, you know? There’s never a stopping point.”

“I hear you. Fuck, I’m so ready to be called up. I want to be out there kicking your ass, not back here with the kids.” He grinned at the camera and Aaron flipped him off, laughing at the familiarity of all of it. Yeah, he’d let conversation slip, but nothing had changed. Thank god.

“How are the kids?” Aaron asked, resting his chin in his hand. “The new ones. Doing good?”

“Oh, yeah. They’re a good group. I mean, they’re fuckin’… babies, but they’re learning.” Brendan shrugged. “You know how it is.”

Aaron cleared his throat. He could feel his face getting red, but hopefully Brendan wouldn’t be able to tell in the Skype window. “I actually wanted to ask you about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Are things… still the same?”

Brendan blinked, and his face went carefully blank, his eyes cutting off-screen. Aaron knew that look; making sure the door was closed, no matter how many times you’d checked it before.

“No,” Brendan said, leaning in closer again. “We put a stop to that shit.”

“I know. I know. But nobody’s, like… I dunno. Backsliding?”

“No.” Brendan’s voice was hard. “I wouldn’t put up with it. You know that, dude.”

“What about…” Aaron glanced at the door, biting his lip before he continued. “You know, you’ll move up next year, what about the next group? You make sure they won’t allow it either?”

“Oh, I put the fear of god into ‘em. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” Aaron slumped forward, letting his shoulders relax for the first time since this started digging around in the back of his mind. “Okay. Thanks, dude. Sorry to bring it up, you know, it just… got in my head the other day and I couldn’t get rid of it.”

“I took care of everything. Don’t worry.”

“We gotta do something.” Aaron rubbed his forehead. “Something bigger, you know, the whole fucking… everything. All the teams.”

“Somebody’s gotta do something. Not us. That’s too big for us, Eks. Don’t think about it.”

“I can’t _not_ think about it.”

“Well, then, it’s gotta wait until you finish your career and turn into some bigshot. When you’re the Commissioner, eh?”

Aaron snorted and flipped him off again. “Asshole. Like I’d ever be Commissioner.”

“Might be kind of funny. You could just, like, decide to reorganize the whole thing, what’s anybody going to do about it?”

“I don’t want to do my whole career and then turn into the _enemy_.”

“Yeah, I know. You want to end up running a fuckin’ car dealership in Belle River or something.”

“Not Belle River. At least, like, Toronto.” Aaron bit at his thumbnail, then pulled it away from his mouth. Bad habits. “Thanks, man. I won’t bug you about this shit anymore.”

Brendan waved his hand. “Whatever. Let’s talk about the important stuff. Give me the dirt, brother, I want to know _everything._.”

**

They won in San Jose. Aaron had two assists, and the guys absolutely insisted he come out to celebrate. Everybody went out, even Willie and Thornton, though they sat at the other end of the bar from the young guys, having some kind of quiet veteran conversation. Aaron kept trying to catch Willie’s eye, wanting to signal him that he would leave whenever Willie was ready, only not at the _exact_ same time, because that would be conspicuous, but—

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he flushed as he saw it was a text from Willie. _Stop staring, kid. I promise to put out._

Well, that was embarrassing, but at least it was settled. Aaron sent him a poop emoji and turned his attention back to Sasha’s truly awful taste in music.

Willie paid his tab and left a while later, and Aaron set his alarm for twenty minutes and ordered one last beer. He loved his team; at some point that had happened, the fact that he really did _love_ them, so much. They were his boys, and they all looked out for each other. He wasn’t afraid of any of them. As soon as Willie finished fixing him… no. As soon as he was _done healing_ , he would be able to be totally normal in the locker room and not afraid of anything anymore, and that would be so great.

But even with all of that being totally true, he couldn’t wait to ditch them and get back to Willie’s room. He wanted to make out with his captain, and maybe suck his dick. 

Maybe captain wasn’t the right word for Willie when they were together. He wasn’t really the _captain_ then, after all. He wanted to make out with his… boyfriend? That didn’t feel right. His landlord? Definitely not right.

He just wanted to make out with Willie. Eleven minutes left to sit at this bar and not be making out with anyone, and half a beer to go.

When his alarm finally went off, he rushed his goodbyes to everyone and hurried back to the hotel. Willie’s door was propped open with a shoe, so he let himself in, closing it carefully behind him and blinking in the dim light.

Willie was sitting on the bed, his tie lying over one thigh and the first few buttons of his shirt undone. “Wondered what was taking you so long,” he said, half-smiling.

“I wanted to make it all seem casual.” Aaron walked to the bed slowly, trying to figure out what to do with his hands and finally just letting them fall uselessly at his sides. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Willie ran a hand through his hair. “You looked good out there.”

“Thanks. It felt good. It was…” Aaron shrugged, staring at Willie as meaningfully as he could. “Good.”

Willie rolled his eyes. “Take your suit off, kid.”

Aaron shrugged out of his jacket and fumbled with his tie, tugging it tighter twice before he checked himself and managed to undo the knot. Then it was the shirt, his belt, trousers—he didn’t look up again until he was down to his boxers and his socks, and saw Willie lying back against the pillows, equally undressed and watching Aaron with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

“What?” Aaron hesitated, his trousers in his hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Willie shook his head and touched the mattress next to him. “Come over here.”

“You were looking at me.”

“I like looking at you.” Willie smiled as Aaron got onto the bed. “You’re all fired up, eh?”

“Yeah. I just… I want…” Aaron couldn’t find the words. He shrugged in the same motion as he climbed on top, straddling Willie’s thighs and shifting until he could press their cocks together.

Willie’s hands found Aaron’s hips, rubbing his thumbs in slow circles. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“I want you.” Aaron leaned down and kissed him, knowing that Willie didn’t understand why he was hungry and desperate, and also knowing that he didn’t have any hope of explaining it. Everything was tangled in his head and he couldn’t sort it out. All he could do was act on every urge, and hope that said more than words.

“Easy,” Willie said, rolling his hips up against Aaron’s. “Just relax.”

“I can’t. I want you so much. I want to show you—”

“You don’t have to show me anything. It’s okay.”

“I want to.” Aaron kissed him again, catching Willie’s shoulders and holding him down to the bed. “I want to get you off, I want to… I want to let you touch me.”

Willie groaned, his hands tightening on Aaron’s hips. “Fuck, Aaron. You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I—yeah. Not... not like… not with your… but…”

Willie kissed him quickly, stopping him before his uncertainty could turn to panic. “Anything you want. Just tell me.”

Aaron nodded, closing his eyes and kissing Willie back, letting himself hold on to that, the safe, understandable part. Willie didn’t push him, didn’t rush, just ran his hands up and down Aaron’s back and let him grind down in rhythmless wanting.

“Touch me,” Aaron said finally, turning his head to pant against Willie’s neck. “Your hand, I mean. Just. Put it…”

It wasn’t particularly good directions, but it was enough. Willie slid his hand down to Aaron’s groin and curved his palm to the swell of Aaron’s dick, rubbing slowly. “Like this?”

Aaron nodded. “That’s… that’s good. Please.”

“Tell me if you want to take your boxers off. Touch your skin.”

Aaron closed his eyes tighter and let Willie fondle him for another moment, concentrating on how the heat and pleasure spiked through his veins and made his stomach tighten low and deep. “Y-yeah. I think… I think I want that.”

Willie drew his hand back and caught Aaron’s waistband with his thumbs, slowly guiding it down until Aaron knelt up higher to help. His dick caught in the material briefly and then sprang to attention, hot and flushed. Willie made a low sound that was half a laugh and half not, at all. “Fuck, Aaron.”

He licked his palm before he touched Aaron again, so his skin was wet and warm sliding over Aaron’s erection, enough that Aaron’s thighs shook. He settled down on Willie’s thighs again, leaning in to kiss him, shifting forward and back trying to find the best angle until Willie choked back a grunt of pain.

“What?” Aaron sat up again. “What did I do?”

“Just… just don’t rock back toward my knees, that’s all. They’re not quite up to it.” Willie grinned at him and guided him in again, coaxing him into another kiss. “The rest of me is. Don’t worry.”

“Feels good,” Aaron whispered, letting himself relax into the slow slide of Willie’s hand along his shaft, the careful play of pressure and friction, the knowledge that Willie was _watching_ him, hyperattuned to every move he made. Aaron didn’t know what to do with it. It was too much. He couldn’t _wait_ when Willie was watching him like that. He was going to spill all over Willie’s hand, hot and messy and embarrassing, and it would be—

It was pretty good, actually. Willie didn’t seem to mind. He just kissed him, again, and rolled his hips up to bump his own erection against Aaron’s thigh.

“You want me to blow you?” Aaron asked, breathless and shaky.

“Not this time.” Willie sucked at Aaron’s lower lip until he sagged forward again, mesmerized by the simplest thing. “I want to keep kissing you, okay? And just rub on you like this.”

“It won’t be enough.”

“God, stop arguing with me.” Willie kissed him and yeah, okay, Aaron didn’t really want to argue anymore when he did that. Not ever.

It took a while, not that Aaron kept close track through the distraction of making out, but Willie did come from rocking up against him, ending up with wet boxers and beard burn on his lips.

“Rookie,” he said, letting Aaron out of his arms enough to flop down beside him. “You wear an old man out.”

“Don’t.” Aaron wasn’t even sure what he meant, exactly—don’t make jokes, don’t call yourself old, don’t try to _diminish_ this—but Willie’s eyes flashed understanding and he was quiet, rubbing his palm over Aaron’s chest.

“What made you change your mind?” he asked after a while. “About letting me touch you.”

Part of Aaron didn’t want to tell him; he wanted to keep it for himself, a secret he could clutch to his chest when he needed it. But he had to be honest. None of this would work if he wasn’t honest. He was starting to get that, now.

“That day you were hurting,” he said. “When you couldn’t get out of bed and we just, like, watched documentaries and stuff at home.”

“You felt sorry for me, so you let me jerk you off? That doesn’t quite make sense.”

“ _Don’t_.” Aaron took a frustrated breath and caught Willie’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “You were, like. Vulnerable. And I don’t know, I realized that… that I’m not the only person in the world who gets that way. And I like doing things for you, because it’s _doing something_ , even when I’m vulnerable. And maybe… maybe I should let you feel the same way. Maybe that sounds dumb. I don’t know.” He swallowed hard, staring at their hands, careful not to look at Willie directly. “I don’t know.”

Willie squeezed his hand, rubbing his thumb across Aaron’s knuckles. “I don’t know how you manage to break my fucking heart and make me feel so good at the same time.”

Aaron tried to laugh. “Lucky, I guess?”

“I feel pretty damn lucky.” Willie squeezed his hand again and reached out to thumb at his phone, setting the early alarm. “Pull the blankets up, eh? Let’s get some rest.”

Aaron realized after the light went out that this was the first time Willie just knew that he would stay. It was enough to make him fall asleep smiling.

**

He ended up last in line for massage therapy after practice, which meant he went back to an empty locker room and changed into his sweats in silence. He stood for a few moments in the quiet space, looking around, finally letting his eyes drift to the door to the showers. He’d already taken a shower, before his massage. He’d used his normal tactics of focusing on some things and distracting himself from others, and it was fine. He hadn’t been scared.

But this was as good a chance as he was likely to get to test himself, and that might come in handy in the future. He dropped his bag on the bench in front of his stall and walked back to the showers.

He turned on half of the heads and stood at the edge of the spray, checking his own responses. His breathing, his pulse, any tremor in his hands, the roar of noise in his head that blocked out any chance at thought. They all picked up, but not as badly as he remembered. He wasn’t getting worse anymore; he wasn’t _fixed_ , either, but maybe he was getting better.

He moved toward the wall, reaching out to stroke his hand over the tile. Smooth passes at first, just the skin of his palm against the tile, moving easily across it. His chest tightened, but he could blink it away. It was okay.

He curved his fingers, letting his nails catch at the edge of the tile. And that—no, that was not okay, he pulled his hand back to himself like he’d been burned, as his heart jumped in his throat and his head screamed.

Better, though. Not fixed, but better.

“I’ll take it,” he said out loud, his voice echoing over and through the rush of the water. It wasn’t a shutout win or anything, but it was better. That was good enough.

**

Being mathematically on the edge of the playoffs but realistically a long shot fucked with his head. It fucked with everybody, but he felt like he was getting the worst of it, because he was a fucking baby and didn’t know any better. At least, that was how he summed it up to himself, and swore to work harder. Maybe he could haul them there himself, if he tried.

Well, him and Jagr. Because they got Jagr. He still couldn’t really believe that that had happened. 

Jags gave most of his attention to the forwards, which was only right, but he still had some left over for Aaron, and that was—well, his attention was _amazing_ , it was so focused and intense and Aaron didn’t really know what to do with having it all aimed right at him, except try even harder to perform well and be impressive. Getting a nod of approval from Jags was Christmas and his birthday all rolled up together. He wanted it every day.

Willie seemed kind of amused by it all, and Aaron kind of could see why. If he stepped back and _looked_ at himself and the other younger guys, they kind of rushed around Jagr like guppies being fed. It was kind of funny.

“He knows _so much_ ,” he tried to explain to Willie in the car on the way to practice one day. “It’s just amazing.”

“I know.” Willie hit his turn signal and gave Aaron a half-smile. “It’s good that you guys want to learn things.”

“We’re probably gonna stay late today and do extra drills with him again. Do you have meetings? Or should I get Sasha to drive me home?”

“I do have meetings, but they’ll probably wrap up before you’re done. Better get a ride to be safe.”

Aaron hesitated, trying to catch Willie’s eye. “It’s cool, right? Like, it’s okay?”

“What is?”

“Me spending extra time working with Jags.”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

Aaron hesitated again, embarrassment and confusion choking off his voice. “I don’t know.”

“Do you think I’ll get jealous?” 

Willie’s voice is so carefully neutral, Aaron doesn’t know how to respond. It isn’t a tone he’s ever heard before, not one he knows how to read. It could be Willie tricking him into saying something wrong, but that isn’t—that isn’t something Willie would do. It doesn’t feel like that, but he doesn’t know what it _does_ feel like, and that leaves him—

“Aaron,” Willie prompts gently. “Do you think I’ll get jealous?”

“I don’t—I don’t know.”

“I don’t have any right to get jealous, you know. You’re feeling better now, and I’m… I’m really glad you’re feeling better. You’re always free to…” Willie gestured vaguely with one hand, his other one gripping the steering wheel. “To meet new people, and, um, to… do what you want. With them. You’re not stuck with me, I guess I’m saying. You’re your own person.”

Aaron sat still for a moment, his fingers clutching the edge of his seat. “What are you talking about?”

“Jesus.” Willie stopped at a light and closed his eyes tightly. “If you want to fuck around with Jags. You should do that. It’s okay.”

“You think this is about _sex_?”

“What do you think it’s about?”

“Hockey!”

Willie’s head thumps back against the headrest. “Oh. Well, then. Forget I said anything.”

“I can’t just _forget_ it! Fuck, dude!”

Someone behind them honked, and Willie hit the gas a little roughly. “Well, table it til after practice, then, okay?”

Aaron slouched lower in his seat. “It’s just _hockey_.”

“Okay.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know that.”

“Table it, Aaron.”

That was the tone of voice he wasn’t really supposed to argue with, so he didn’t. But man, he was going to argue with Willie later. So much. As soon as they both got home.

**

Extra practice ran late, and then Sasha suggested they stop for food before he dropped Aaron off, and food turned into an extra half-hour of Sasha flirting with girls while Aaron translated what the girls were saying for him. It was a great time, but he didn’t get home until way later than he’d planned. 

Pinot was dozing in the kitchen, and Willie and Megan were nowhere to be seen. Their cars were in the driveway, though, so Aaron hesitated at the foot of the stairs like an idiot, trying to guess if they were upstairs, or outside, or if they’d walked to the beach, or what.

Megan’s laugh answered the question, floating down the stairs from behind the bedroom door. Aaron cocked his head and listened carefully, and yes, that was Willie’s voice answering her, low and teasing.

He stood on the landing, not sure what to do. He could go downstairs and lock himself in his room and avoid everything forever. He could knock and let himself in. He could… there were probably at least a thousand totally reasonable options that existed between those two. None were coming to mind.

He moved closer to the door, reaching out to rest his hand on it. He wanted to be in there. Maybe that was enough, wanting it this strongly, to mean he should go for it.

He took a breath and stopped. Wow. That was a really distinct odor of pot coming out from under the door.

Fear cut through uncertainty and he knocked on the door. “Meg? Willie? Can I come in? Are you okay?”

“Oh, shit,” he heard Meg say, and then more giggling. 

He frowned and opened the door. “I meant is Willie okay, is he having a bad pain day or—oh.” They were both sitting cross-legged on the bed, in their underwear, and Megan was completely failing to hide the joint in her hand. “You guys.”

“This is definitely a moment where you’re in the role of parent and we’re the naughty children,” Megan said. “Welcome home?”

“What are you _doing_?”

“We’re having a moment with the just for fun stuff,” Willie said. 

“From the sock drawer.” Aaron nodded. “So you’re not in pain.”

“I had a headache. Not bad enough for the other stuff, but, like. Not great.”

“Concussions,” Megan said in a singsong voice. “Brain injuries.”

Willie shrugged and took the joint from her. “And you weren’t home, so we decided to be bad for a while.”

Aaron was surprised by how that stung. “You want me to go out again?”

“No,” Megan says firmly. “We want you to lie down and relax with us.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow at her. “Do I get to be bad, too?”

She rested her head on Willie’s shoulder. “What do you think, babe?”

“We’re not his parents.” Willie grinned at him and held out the joint. “Lie down, kid.”

Aaron climbed onto the bed and stopped on his knees for a moment, taking a slow puff. He handed it back and stretched out on his side, watching the two of them.

“How was your extra skating?” Willie asked, leaning back against the headboard.

“Good. We practiced a bunch of stuff.” Aaron bit his lip. “And I didn’t mess around with Jags.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“That really pissed me off earlier. You thinking that.”

“Aaron.” Willie sighed and looked at him for a minute. “I just know that he’s… shiny and new. And impressive. And you’re feeling better. There’s no reason you _shouldn’t_ want to be with him.”

“You guys keep telling me that it’s important to be honest, and important to _listen_ , so… so listen to me. Believe what I’m telling you. I don’t want him. I want _you_. I want to be here.”

Megan brushed her fingers along Willie’s arm. “Listen to him, babe. He has a point.”

“Okay. Okay, okay.” Willie caught her hand and squeezed it, then leaned down and kissed Aaron. “You want this, it’s yours. No more questions from me.”

“If anything changes, just tell us,” Megan added. “Fair?”

“Fair.” Aaron smiled at her. “Are you watching space shows again?”

“Volcanoes.” 

“Cool.” Aaron settled in, and they were quiet for a while, passing the joint back and forth and watching volcanoes happen.

The documentary ended, and Willie brushed Aaron’s hair off his forehead. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep any minute.”

“Nah. I’m good.”

Willie smiled, his touch lingering. “Sure.”

“I _am_. I’m gonna learn about… what’s the next one? Dinosaurs? I’m gonna learn about dinosaurs.”

He didn’t learn anything about dinosaurs. His eyes drifted closed and he was asleep within minutes.

When he opened them again, there were starfish on the screen, but that was by far the least important change. Willie was on top of Megan, stretched out on the bed beside Aaron, kissing her slow and warm. Aaron blinked, but it didn’t clear the fuzziness from his head or the strange surreal feeling of the moment. He was watching from close by, he could see and hear and all but taste every detail, but he felt like he was observing from a thousand miles away, through a telescope.

Megan whispered something and Willie laughed softly, kissing her again and then moving down her body. He kissed her breasts, her belly, and then he tugged her underwear down and settled between her legs, his face pressed between her thighs. 

Aaron kept as still as he could, watching them through half-closed eyes. He felt like he was floating, in another world, just watching them. They were beautiful together, so beautiful. It was amazing to be allowed to see.

Megan moaned when she came, low and throaty. “Shh,” Willie whispered, looking up at her with a smile. “You’ll wake up Aaron.”

“Think he’s awake.” She turned her head and smiled lazily when she caught Aaron’s gaze. “Hey.”

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat, turning his hips to try to hide his erection. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” She reached out and traced his jaw lightly. “You want him to take care of you now?”

“I—” He glanced from her to Willie and then closed his eyes. “Yes?”

“You want his mouth?” she prompted gently. “He’s good. He’ll make you feel so good.”

“Do… do you want to?” Aaron asked, not opening his eyes, just turning his face toward Willie. This was still strange and dreamlike and unreal, but that made it easier, that made it _okay_. They’d slipped sideways into a different reality where he didn’t have to worry so much about things.

“Yeah, I want to.” Willie’s voice was low and rough and so hot Aaron almost thought he could feel it on his skin. He did feel the mattress shifting under him as Willie crawled away from Megan and toward him, and as Megan shifted up the bed to give them room.

Instead of working his way down like he had with Megan, Willie worked his way up Aaron, kissing along his legs, from the knotty muscles of his calves to his knees to the sensitive skin of his thighs, until he reached the delicate flesh between them. Willie breathed against the crease of his groin, stirring the rough hair, then pressed a kiss to his balls. Just as Aaron drew a ragged breath to say _please_ , Willie took his cock in his mouth, warm and steady and knowing. He took his time, going slowly and letting Aaron feel everything, letting him get used to each sensation before he added more.

Part of Aaron wanted to say _I know how to do this_ or _I have had my dick sucked before, this is not some kind of a miracle_ , but the idea of Willie taking this much care because he _wanted_ to, because Aaron was special to him, that—that hit him low and hot in his gut and he didn’t want to stop it. He wanted to keep it for as long as he could, actually. He wanted to remember this not as a first time but as a _good_ time, something that was a gift to him.

It wasn’t to fix him. It wasn’t even to heal him. It was just something that felt good, because Willie wanted him to feel good. Willie thought he deserved it.

That was what brought him to the edge and over, spilling in Willie’s mouth while his hands gripped tightly at the blankets and he gasped in the cool stillness of the bedroom. He could take this the way it was given. There didn’t have to be any hidden costs.

Willie swallowed and crawled up the length of his body to kiss him, letting him taste himself in Willie’s mouth and lick himself from Willie’s tongue. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Willie said softly.

Aaron bumped their noses together and tried not to laugh too hard. “You’re high as fuck.”

Willie grinned, resting his forehead against Aaron’s. “So are you.”

“Not as bad as you.”

“Close enough.” Willie looked over to Meg, still pressed against Aaron. “What do you think, babe?”

“I think you’re my favorites,” she said. “Both of you. I’m gonna keep you here forever.”

“Okay,” Aaron said, and he meant it. He knew that right now, right here, they did, too.

**

After the last game, Aaron took his time in the locker room. He’d expected the end of his rookie year to be emotional, but mostly he just felt tired. The disappointment of being knocked out of the playoff race had already happened. He didn’t have the summer stretching out ahead of him, not with Worlds coming up. The Calder stuff was still up in the air, and he didn’t know how to feel about that, anyway, so he did his best to push it into the back of his mind and leave it there.

He did the round of hugs and fist-bumps and bullshitting, changed into his suit, looked at all the crap in his stall he would have to come back for on clean-out day. Thank god he didn’t have to deal with all of that tonight. He didn’t have the energy for it.

They’d won the game, and the other guys were probably going out celebrating. Maybe he should go join them. Actually, no maybe. Definitely. That was the right thing.

But it wasn’t what he wanted.

He drove back to the house, parked behind Willie’s car, and hesitated, resting his hands on the steering wheel. He knew Willie would be down at the dock, taking a few quiet moments with the water and a fishing line. It was his after-game ritual, and normally Aaron was careful not to interfere. Tonight, though…

He got out of the truck and slipped his keys in his pocket, then started walking down to the dock. It took a while to get there by foot, hopefully long enough that Willie wouldn’t mind company by the time he got there.

Willie was sitting at the end of the dock with his feet in the water, watching the lights of boats still on the move out in the open waves. “Hey,” Aaron said, stopping a few feet back.

Willie glanced back over his shoulder and smiled. “Hey.”

“Company okay?”

“Sure.” He looked out at the water again. “Good game tonight.”

“Too little, too late.” Aaron slipped his shoes off and stuffed his socks in them, then sat down next to Willie. The water was colder than he expected; he curled his toes and followed Willie’s gaze out to the boats.

“Don’t think about it too much.” Willie bumped him gently with his shoulder. “This time of year you can make yourself crazy if you don’t learn when to let it go.”

“Gotta clear out my head and make room for Worlds.” Aaron exhaled slowly and let himself lean against Willie, feeling the comforting solidity of their bodies lined up together.

“Kid.” Willie’s voice was soft, affectionate. “You’re gonna do great.”

“I hope so. I’ll settle for okay.”

“No, you won’t. You never do.”

“I do, though. I am with this.” Aaron gestured between them, then stopped. “Uh. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Willie laughed softly. “How did you mean it?”

“I’m not… I’m not fixed, like I thought I’d be.” Aaron blinked out at the faraway lights. “I still don’t want to… I don’t want to be fucked, and I don’t know if I ever will. But I’m not, like, so worried about it anymore. I like what we do. I feel good about it. It’s not everything but it’s okay.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Willie rested his hand on Aaron’s thigh. “I’m so fucking proud of you, you know that? I don’t even know where to start.”

“I’ve still got a lot of work to do. Never stop working, you know?” Aaron ran his hand through his hair. “But I feel okay. I’m happy, or whatever.”

“Happy or whatever.” Willie nodded. “Strong words.”

“Dude…”

Willie laughed and let go, getting to his feet. “Come on. It’s your last night of being a rookie. Let’s go out and meet up with the guys.”

“Oh, you want to? I thought maybe we could stay home and like…” Willie glanced at him and raised his eyebrows, and Aaron made the most meaningful face he could, which apparently was pretty funny by the way Willie started laughing.

“We can do both, actually,” Willie said when he recovered himself. “We’ve got time.”

Aaron fell in step with him up the dock, cradling his shoes in his hands. “You know, if I’m not a rookie anymore, I’m just one of the guys. I’m not special anymore.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“It’s a hell of a lot of pressure off.”

“Good.” They walked in silence for a moment. “It doesn’t mean you don’t matter, though. You know that, right?”

Aaron smiled slowly. “Yeah. I actually do.”

When they got back to the house they stood and kissed in the dark, and whatever happened in the summer or the next season or anywhere down the line, Aaron knew that this moment was always going to be his to come back to. This was home.


End file.
